The Flying Dutchman

“I don’t have an appointment, I’m so to speak timeless, but could I happen to get my hair cut anyway now? It is just a machine cutting with cutter No. 3.”

“Yes, yes, sit down on the couch and have a cup of coffee, it lasts only five minutes,” replied the hairdresser in the newly discovered salon, “The Flying Dutchman,” in one of the town’s side streets.

As he sat down in the very soft couch, he sank so deep into the cushions that he thought: “It will not be that easy to get up again from here.”

The hairdresser appeared to be Middle Eastern, and was in the process of finalizing a young, strong and black-haired man’s order. The door was open because of the beautiful summer weather with almost no wind.

“Five minutes, I can easily wait,” he thought, “but it’s probably just a figure of speech.” The customer in the chair did not seem to be ‘almost done,’ “but in the meantime I can let my gaze slide around a bit, and let the mind get free for so long.”

He looked at the man in the chair with the fabric over his shoulders and thought:

“It’s surely a regular haircut, this heavy young man are having. The highly advanced men’s hair, you often see at the TV and sometimes on the streets, apparently not were on this client’s wish list.”

Then slid his gaze towards the mirror … and amazed… quickly back to the client’s neck. The tiny slender face in the mirror was an old man, white-or gray-haired with a pointed nose, while the man in the chair, seen from his back, was black haired, heavy bodied and about thirty years of age. His eyes slid back and forth between the two opposites, and each time the result was the same. “This I can’t explain to anyone, without they will doubt what I say,” he thought. The hairdresser asked with his middle-eastern accent the customer if he also should pare his beard. It sounded like he said bird instead of beard.

“Done,” he finally said and took the fabric of the man, after having blasted him in the face and shoulders from the front, rear and sides with a kind of hairdryer. Suddenly swirled around the hair on the floor, as if a miniature tornado had hit it and it took the shape of a small black bird. It spread the wings and flew immediately out of the open door.

The timeless closed his eyes hard to clear his mind. When he looked up again, the customer had left the salon and the hairdresser said with a gracious smile:

“Here you go sir, and it was cut 3 mm, we should use?”

He sat in the chair and the hairdresser boarded the jacket and t-shirt together in the neck, so the fabric could sit properly and switched inserts on the machine.

“Hmmm, the one you just had in your chair, had a hairstyle that required scissors, I could see,” he said to approach the problem of the mysterious customer. “Wasn’t he a Dutchman? I thought it sounded a bit Dutch when he said something.”

“What do you mean,” said the hairdresser. “I said five minutes because I just had to sweep and clean ready for you.”

“It was too much to deal with right here right now,” he thought, patting in.

Then cut No. 3 was allowed to do its job, and the hairdresser also offered to pare eyebrows.