Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend

Despite having enjoyed many good times together, we both knew that they couldn't last.  Still, I secretly wished we could've found a way to be together forever.  However I reluctantly came to accept that there really wasn't any alternative.

Thus, with a heavy heart, I walked up to another friend of mine who was particularly eager to see this relationship end.  I knew that she would want nothing more than for things to go back to the way there were before.  I could not end this alone and was certain that she would provide the needed help to break free.

Me:  "So you know that friend I have that you keep begging me to get rid of?"

Friend:  "Yes!"

Me:  "Well... I've decided that the day to do so has finally come."

Friend:  "YES!"

Me:  "I remembered how you said you always wanted to be there when that day came."

Friend:  "Yes!"

Me:  "So... can you help me?"

Friend:  "I sure can.  When do we get rid of it?"

Me:  "I was thinking of shaving off my mustache in about a week from now."

Friend:  "I'm so there!"

Yes, the time had finally come to shave off my mustache.  I had grown my new friend about halfway into my 9 week Mexico trip.  It was the first time I had ever truly grown one and I was quite pleased with the results.  I got many compliments upon returning to Canada, including one I won't soon forget.

"I'm not hitting on you or anything Rick, but man I have to say you look fantastic with that mustache!" --Male coworker

However we all know that for every supporter there's bound to be a hater as well.  I had a few, including the friend to whom I was now turning for assistance.  I had also been thinking of cutting my hair around the same time so as to transform my look completely.  I had considered going to a barber at first, but I made the mistake of having the following conversation:

Me: "I'm also thinking of getting a haircut at the same time.  Do you cut hair at all?"

Friend:  "Of course.  I cut people's hair all the time."

Me:  "Are you sure?"

Friend:  "Absolutely!  I have all the stuff for it."

Me (Trustingly):  "Oh cool... okay bring your stuff and we'll do it up."

The day came and we got ready.  We took a few before shots.

(I look so calm, cool, and collected)

The Barber and I.

Enjoying my last few moments with my mustache to the full.

The closest approximation I could find to one of those barber capes were my shower curtains.  So I tied them around me, sat down on a chair in my kitchen, and prepared for the worst.

Things started off well enough.  My friend began buzzing the sides of my hair and trimming some of the unruly bits that the buzzer missed.  Another friend who was also there stopped us every so often to take pictures along the way.

In retrospect I probably should have had a mirror at the ready, as these photos clearly demonstrate.  My slow descent down the rabbit hole though had only begun.

*My friends, laughing*

Me (becoming slightly alarmed):  "What's so funny guys?"

Friend:  "Oh um, nothing... nothing at all."

Me:  "There's obviously something going on, what's up?"

Friend:  "Nothing, don't worry about it.  I can fix it."

Me:  "Fix it?  Fix what??"

Friend:  "Relax I know what I'm doing."

So I sat back and tried to calm down a little.  I was growing more and more nervous by the minute, but I trusted my friends to do the right thing.  How misplaced that trust was.

*Buzzing sounds*

Me:  "So... how's it going up there."

Friend:  "Um... fine?"

Me:  "Are you asking me or telling me?"

Friend:  "No no it's going great, trust me."

Me:  "You know you keep saying that but so far you've given me no basis for such faith."

Other Friend:  "Uh guys?  I think I can see a bald spot."

Me:  "A bald spot!  What are you talking about??"

Friend:  "I can fix it relax."

Me:  "Relax?  How can I relax when I'm being shaved bald by own friends???

Other Friend:  "What do I have to do with this?"

Me:  "You're allowing it to happen!"

At this point, the situation was looking pretty grim.

Finally I decided I had enough!  The time had come to take matters into my own hands.  Friend tried to stop me but I ended up throwing a hair filled towel at her to stun her as I made my escape.

Me:  "Eat barber hair and fury!"

Friend:  "AAACK!" *spitting* "I can taste your hair, it's all in my mouth!  THBT THBT THBT" (Spitting noises)

Me:  "Bwa ha ha haaaaa!"

Revenge is sweet.

Me after escaping to my bathroom.

Unfortunately though it turned out that I was just as useless at cutting hair as my friend was.  Finally the cameraman, aka. Other Friend spoke up.

Other Friend:  "Rick... sit back down and I'll finish cutting your hair."

Rick:  "How do I know I can trust you not to screw things up further?"

Other Friend:  "Well I can't do any worse than she did."

For some reason this seemed to make logical sense at the time.  I sat down and allowed Other Friend to work his magic.

My other friend actually managed to fix the mess caused by my initial friend.

In the end I had lost far more hair than I had initially hoped to.  But I knew that my hair grows quicker than mold in my basement apartment.  Also, not bald!  I decided to count my blessings.

I had survived the blade, vanquished the Barber, and came out relatively unscathed.  My Herculean-style labours however were not quite over.

Friend:  "Ok we're finally ready to shave the stache."

Me:  "I think you lost that privilege when you nearly shaved my head!"

Friend:  "No no this is simple.  This time if I shave it all off it's ok."

Me:  "What if you take my upper lip with it in the process?"

Friend:  "Well then you'll be glad you grew a mustache while you had the chance."

Me:  "I think I'll just shave it mysel--"

Before I could complete that sentence my friend practically lunged at me with the buzzer.  I let out a muffled scream as she held my head back and tore into my mustache with furious abandon.  I managed to escape her once again though.  I stumbled into the bathroom and tried to reach for the razor.  My friend beat me to it though.

Friend:  "Here you big baby!  I'll do it for you"

Me:  *Sigh* "Fine go ahead."

Friend:  "I just have one quick question first."

Me:  "What is it?"

Friend:  "Are you supposed to go up or down when you shave?"

I snatched the razor out of her hand in horror.  The time had come to take matters into my own hands.  Again.

And so, with a few swift final strokes, it was finally over.  I looked down at the masacre that lay before me.

I miss my mustache already.