Clackety-clack.
"Mornin’ Harry." Harry was always there before me. Well, most times anyway.
"Mornin’ Emmet."
"Mornin’ Ladies." I didn’t expect an answer. I had never gotten one in the five years I had owned the shop.
Harry was sitting in his barber chair, the one closest to the window, reading the newspaper. "You done with the sports section, Harry?"
He handed it over, silently ‘cause we had done this most mornings.
I settled in the middle chair, my chair, and opened the paper. There was not much of a sports section. It was a small, local morning paper and mostly had only the scores of the professional teams in a small section, then some local high school sports news. Then there was the chess club and the bass club. I suppose fishing is a sport, but I’ve never thought chess was much of one. The rest of the paper consisted of local news, the Rotary Club, the Chamber of Commerce doings and the Lions, Moose, Elk and all those other animal associations. Oh yeah, page two was world news.
The door opened and Chuck Bloom came in.
"You cuttin’ today, Emmet?" Harry didn’t mind. Actually, he was a better barber than me. It’s just that most folks would rather sit in my chair, the middle one, so they could look out the window and watch people walk by. Or, watch the sisters, sitting on the waiting couch under the window, doing their ‘clickety-clack’ noise with those funny needles. Harry always wanted his own chair, the one farthest away from the window.
When I looked up at him, the noise paused momentarily. "Nah. Not today. Harry’s cuttin’ today."
He nodded and when Harry had folded up the newspaper and vacated his chair, Chuck sat down.
Clackety-clack."
I didn’t feel much like cutting today. I only bought this place to get away from my wife for a little while every day. I already retired from two jobs and didn’t really need the money. But each time I retired, I found out that even though I love my wife dearly, we did not want to be around each other every minute of the day. She had her routine, and when I am there all day, I mess it up. So I bought the barbershop from old George Baxter. He was ready to go home and try being with his wife twenty-four hours a day. I heard he died recently.
Harry was hired by George, and I kept him on. I don’t think he really needs the money either, but it gives him something to do.
"Just trim ‘er up a bit, Harry. And maybe a little off the top." Chuck said as Harry arranged his barber tools with the precision of a brain surgeon. Everything just so.
Clackety-clack."
"Harry, how long them sisters been here, anyway?" Chuck asked, though I’m pretty sure he already knew the answer. The sisters were always a topic of conversation.
"Shoot." Harry said as he clipped the wild hair just above Chuck’s left ear. "Them ladies was here when ol’ George hired me. You remember ol’ George don’t you, Emmet?"
Of course I remembered ol’ George. I bought the place from him. I wondered about Harry more often these days. He seems to forget things sometimes.
"Uh huh." I answered.
"Ol’ George," He continued. "He told me them sisters was just here one mornin’ when he opened up shop! George ‘bout had a fit! Couldn’t figure out how they got in here or what they was doin’ here. He figured they was out to steal him blind. They wouldn’t talk, or answer any questions." Harry now moved to Chuck’s other ear. "Ol’ George called out Sheriff Todd. You remember ol’ Sheriff Todd, don’t you Emmet?"
"Uh huh." I turned to the back page of the sports section, which contained the crossword puzzle.
"Sheriff Todd, he told George he didn’t exactly know what to do. There was no sign of breakin’ and enterin’, and nothin’ was missin’, so what exactly did George want him to do?"
‘Trespassin’!’ Says ol’ George."
‘Trespassin’?’ Says Todd. ‘How are they trespassin’? They’re just sittin’ there, and you are open for business. Maybe they’re waitin’ for a haircut!’"
George tells Todd that ladies don’t get haircuts and Todd says back, how do you know they’re ladies? George says, ‘cause they got breasts! Todd says yeah, they do at that, though small. Well says Todd; you call me if they give you any trouble. And he walks out, just like that."
"Ain’t that somethin’." Chuck said, shaking his head.
"Hold that head still or I’ll cut your ear off!" Harry said, though he had never even nicked an ear in years. "Ol’ George never went home that night, nor for three nights after. He stayed right here in the shop and kept one eye open and on them ladies the whole time."
"They never moved from that bench. Just sat there clackin’ them needles all day and all night. Never have seen where the thread comes from, nor, for that matter, where has gone whatever it is they’re makin’!"
Clickety-clack.
The sisters (somebody, somewhere laid that tag on them, though nobody had any idea if they were really sisters) looked like elves. What you could see of them, anyway. They wore these gray robes with big hoods so we couldn’t see their faces and wide, gaping sleeves so we never even saw their hands. To me, they looked like those little guys in that new movie, "Star Wars". I never saw the movie, but my grandson showed me a picture on a collector’s card, like baseball cards I used to collect when I was young. Those little guys in brown robes and black faces who lived on that big, old, hulking desert ship. Can’t remember their name, if I ever even knew.
"Pretty soon, ol’ George give up. Just let ‘em sit there. They were always there when he locked up at night, and always there when he opened in the mornin’." Harry was now ‘takin’ a little off the top’ of Chuck’s head.
"Don’t they eat or go to the bathroom?" Chuck asked.
"Not that I ever seen." Harry answered.
The sisters had stopped being a novelty years ago. At first, people came from all over the county to see them, and the local paper wrote articles about them for a while. Then things settled down and they’re now part of the landscape. Once, one of the big TV networks sent a camera down, but there was never a follow-up, ‘cause nothing changed. Every now and again, Bobby Bascomb, over at the paper, would come around and see if anything has changed. Then he will write a small article saying something like "Sisters Still Sittin’." Or "A-sittin’ And A-knittin’." Or some such.
But even though things have calmed down about them, most folks never wanted to sit in the chair closest to them. Still a little leery of something so strange as the sisters.
How they stood the heat in this part of the country in the summertime was beyond me, wearing those heavy robes that look like they’re made of wool or something like wool.
Clackety-clack.
Today was Saturday, so business was a little better than normal, what with some of the farmers out in the county coming into town for supplies, and some of the older boys in town with the day off getting all spiffed up for a night out drinking and chasing women. Most everybody who came in first asked: "You cuttin’ today, Emmet?" And I always said, "Nah. Harry’s cuttin’." Like I said, I just didn’t feel like cuttin’ today.
And since I wasn’t cuttin’, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Seemed like every time somebody asked if I was cuttin’, the clackety-clack of the sisters’ needles paused momentarily. This was new to me and I wondered if anybody else had noticed.
"Harry," I said. "You ever notice when somebody comes in and asks am I cuttin’ today, them needles of the sisters’ go quiet for a spell?"
Harry looked up from Jake Quillam’s head. Jake was the handyman in town, and it was a rare thing for him to show up on a weekend, since most folks were home on the weekend and that was Jake’s busy time.
"Not that I noticed." Harry said, just finishing up on Jake by pouring some sweet-smelling tonic on his head and mixing it in real good.
"I noticed." Jake said. "I noticed ‘cause I need to notice stuff on my job. If I don’t notice stuff what’s broke, I don’t get hired to fix it."
"You really noticed?" I asked, wondering why he hadn’t said something. "Why didn’t you say something?"
"I didn’t say somethin’ ‘cause it don’t seem important to me whether or not them sisters knit or not."
Made sense.
"Here comes that Jimmy Joe Carter." Jake said as he handed Harry the cash. "Sure am glad I’m done. Jimmy Joe looks like he’s drunk. He’s bad enough sober. Thanks Harry. Thanks Emmet. Goodbye sisters." He left just as Jimmy Joe walked in.
Jake was right. Jimmy Joe was drunker than I had ever seen him. And in the middle of the afternoon, too.
"Howdy Emmet!" He said, way too loudly. "You cuttin’ today?"
"I’m right here, Jimmy Joe. No need to holler. And Harry’s cuttin’ today."
He looked at Harry, then looked over at the sisters.
"How’s about cuttin’ my hair over in thet there chair, Harry?" He staggered toward the chair by the window, where the sisters sat on a bench doing whatever it was that they were doing. He sat himself down in the empty chair and made himself comfortable with a big sigh and a big smile.
"I don’t like that chair, Jimmy Joe." Harry shouldn’t have had to tell Jimmy Joe that fact, ‘cause the whole town knew that Harry had his own chair and wouldn’t cut any hair unless that hair was sitting in it.
"Well." Jimmy Joe got a funny, impish look on his face. "If you ain’t gonna cut my hair, and Emmet ain’t cuttin’ today, how about the sisters?" With a leer, he looked directly at the three still figures, their needles momentarily silent. "How about it ladies? You cuttin’ today?"
The barbershop exploded!
Now I don’t mean exploded like somebody set off a bomb or something. I mean the shop exploded with motion. Them sisters got off that bench quicker than lightning. One wrapped the barber sheet around Jimmy Joe’s neck. One got the barber tools set out, and the other started shining up on his shoes.
Before Jimmy Joe could shut his mouth, one was working on his hair while the other lathered his face and was giving him a shave. No worry about cutting his face, ‘cause Jimmy Joe was startled stiff. He sat there like a log while the sisters worked around him like a small tornado. They moved so fast, it was hard to follow what exactly they were doing. Like trying to focus on a baseball as it goes from the pitcher’s hand to home plate. Just a blur.
Harry and I weren’t moving either. We watched in awe and fascination at the goings-on.
Before we knew it, Jimmy Joe had a hot towel around his face and was getting the hair brushed off his shoulders and neck. Then the towel was removed, the tools cleaned and put away, and the sisters were back on their sittin’ bench. Clackety-clack.
Jimmy Joe slowly arose from the chair, not taking his eyes off the sisters for a second. He backed away, and out the door. Next we saw of him he was running for all he was worth down the street, sunlight gleaming off his newly-polished shoes.
"What the Hell…?" I looked at Harry and he at me. Both our mouths were open far enough to let a bird fly in if it took the notion, and if there happened to be a bird flying around the shop.
Harry turned thoughtful. "Seems like this happened once afore." He said.
"It’s happed before?" I exclaimed. "How come you never told me about it?"
"Guess I plumb forgot about it. Happened some time ago."
"How come I’ve never heard about it? Somebody should have told me!" I was aghast and bordering on angry. "What happened anyway?"
"Happened before I come to work here. Ol’ George told me about it. He died not too long ago. Did you know that?"
"I knew that, Harry. Now tell me what happened!"
"Same as now, probably. ‘Cept it was old Klondike Calvin what got his hair cut and his shoes all shined up. They cut off his beard, too. Shaved him cleaner’n a baby’s bottom, way ol’ George told me.
"Klondike, why he died right in that there chair. Heart attack they said. Why, he was older’n you and me put together, Emmet. You remember ol’ Klondike Calvin, Emmet?"
I was in no mood for Harry’s reminiscence. "Harry, get on with it!"
"I heard ol’ Klondike hit it rich up there in Alaska. Blew it all on whiskey and women. Only sent Bertha a couple hundred dollars. Boy, was Bertha mad. You remember Bertha…..?"
"HARRY!"
"Okay, okay, Emmet. Well, like I said, George told me Klondike came in all drunked up and asked them sisters if they was cuttin’ today, and then they plumb took care of him right good. Just like Jimmy Joe. I reckon I forgot, that’s all."
"How come George never told me then?"
"Reckon he forgot, too. He had alzheimer’s, you know. Makes people forget things."
"Yeah, Harry. I guess it does." I said, pointedly. But he missed the point.
Clackety-clack.
Later on, Jimmy Joe came back, all sheepish and sorry looking.
"Sorry Harry, Emmet." He was sober, too. "I run outta here so fast, I forgot to pay you." He looked askance at the sisters. But only for a moment.
"Seems to me," I told him. "You don’t owe me or Harry for anything. Seems to me you owe them the money."
He looked at me in horror, then realized I was right. He walked over to the sisters, and held out the money. It flat disappeared so fast we never even seen the hand that took it.
"You know what, Emmet?" Jimmy Joe asked as he ran his hand over his face and chin. "No offense to you two, but that’s the best shave I ever had. And look at these shoes! They ain’t shone like that ever before. Not even new!" He turned once again to look at the sisters. "Thank you very much, ladies." Then he left.
He must have spread the word, because of a sudden, we got real busy. The brave and intrepid in town sat in the sisters’ chair. The not-so-brave sat in either Harry’s or my own chair, just to watch the sisters and pay for a cut whether they needed it or not.
One fella said it was like bein’ in the middle of a whirlwind. He could feel the sisters moving around him, but they were too blurry and fast to follow. And when they were still, their hands were moving. If a body didn’t have shineable shoes, like suede, then they got cleaned and brushed. Even those fancy tennies the kids wear got cleaned up better’n new. The men got the best shaves of their lives. Kids came in to read comic books but really they only wanted to watch the sisters in action.
The sisters never spoke, and we still did not know what they looked like. And when we closed for the day, the last thing we heard was clackety-clack.
For a solid week, we were busier than I ever wanted to be. After all, I just bought the place so I could get away from the wife for a little while each day. I never wanted to work that hard. But we really brought in the money. My wife was happy with a little extra to spend on the grandkids, and I could now afford that new four-wheel drive vehicle I been drooling over.
One day, just before closing, the sisters formed up in a row and faced me. I could not move around them, because they blocked the door. Then, to my everlasting amazement, one spoke. I was so startled, I nearly had to run home to change my britches.
"We’ve been learnin’ your language; now we talk just like you. And we want to say thanks" She said. Her voice was high and sort of squeaky, like a cartoon mouse.
"Yeah. Thanks." The other two chimed in unison.
"Why are you thanking me?"
"For the chance to cut hair and earn money."
"But you earned the money, and you could have cut hair all the time you just been sittin’ there."
"We needed to be asked."
Now I understood. Each time someone asked if I was cuttin’ today, the needles stopped moving because they had been waiting to be asked if they were cuttin’ today.
"Why didn’t you say something?"
"It wasn’t allowed. We had to make our own way. Time passes much differently for us, and where we come from. It’s been…only a short time."
"And where might that be?" I asked, hopefully.
They looked at one another, though I still could not see their faces.
She hesitated. "From the…mountains."
"Yeah. The mountains." Said the other two.
I glanced out the window, taking in the desert landscape.
"No mountains around here." I stated. "Long way to the mountains."
"Yeah. We live a long way from here. But now, we gotta go. We have enough."
They did talk just like me!
"Enough?" I asked. "Enough what? Money? You haven’t earned that much in a week’s time."
"Maybe not much to you. But very much to us. We now have enough money, and enough apprenticeship."
"Apprenticeship? You mean you are learning to be barbers? But you do such good work! You are better barbers than Harry or me!"
"Our people, our hair is different, thicker, like…string."
"Yeah, string…rubber string."
"You have easy hair to cut. But now, we have enough money." Her voice almost sounded as if she were smiling.
"Enough money for what?" I asked.
They looked at each other once again. And again, I sensed that they were smiling.
"Enough money for Barber College!"
A few months later, I was sitting in my barber chair thinking about the sisters. There were some things I was wondering about them, and a couple of questions that I regretted not asking. It was a slow day, and Harry had just stepped out for a bite to eat.
Then the door opened and just as if I had willed it to happen, they walked in and went straight to their bench by the window.
"Hello, ladies." I said, happy to see them again. "How come you’re back? Are you barbers yet?"
There was no answer from the trio, but a voice spoke up from behind me. Three more had come in the door.
"We are barbers, now! We’ve succeeded!" "Sisters? Is that you?"
"Yeah. It’s us. And the three on the seat are your new apprentices."
So. The sisters are still with us.
"I’d like to ask you a couple things, if you don’t mind, that is." I said, hopefully.
"We don’t mind." Said three high, squeaky voices in unison, coming from the large hood openings.
"Well, first of all, do you eat?" They laughed. A musical laugh, not at all like the squeak in their voices.
"Yes. We eat, and drink, and use the potty. But we need not do so but once every few of your days. "
"But when did you do it? I never saw you leave!"
"Oh. We left after you. And came back before you."
"But, how did you get out?"
"We have ways. We just….left."
I was still confused, but I supposed I would have to settle for that.
"All the time you were settin’ there, what was you makin’ with all that needle noise?"
They laughed again. Then, again in unison, they ripped off their robes.
I was flabbergasted. Before me stood three young, blonde, shapely ladies. Virtual triplets. Triplets! They were sisters! And that’s not all! They wore skin-tight body suits. And even that isn’t all! The body suits were white, with diagonal stripes that hugged every womanly curve. The stripes were red and blue. They were walking barber poles!
I had to laugh then. "So you are barbers! And sisters!"
"We aren’t sisters, but we are barbers. On our world, barbers are highly esteemed and are paid much for their services. With our earnings, we decided to give tribute to your world by paying to have ourselves remodeled. Plastic surgery, you would call it."
"How is that a tribute?"
"You can’t tell?" They swiveled and pranced, showing off their bodies, hair and suits. "We modeled ourselves after your most favorite icon: Barbie!"
Barbie Barbers. I’ll be danged. It wasn’t until after they left that it hit me as I listened to the comforting clackety-clack that I didn't know I had missed so much.
They had said our world, and your world! I looked over at the new sisters, and I knew I had plenty of time to figure it out.
There was only one more thing to do. I sat in the chair nearest the sisters, made myself comfortable and addressed them: "Well, how about it sisters? You cuttin’ today?"
