The High Barber.

Hugo had no idea what he was getting himself into when Collins, his playboy roommate, decided it was time to "fix that disaster on your forehead." 

His bangs had become somewhat of a safety blanket over the years, covering his eyes and, conveniently, his social life. 

Anytime he smoothed his bangs, he had felt safe and protected. Like he was hiding behind a curtain.

But Collins, ever the ladies' man, insisted that no self-respecting woman would ever take him seriously with "that mop" hanging over his face.

So, despite his better judgment, Hugo found himself being dragged to the most questionable barbershop he'd ever seen. 

And boy, did it look questionable!

The neon sign outside flickered ominously, spelling out "Cutting Edge" in bright green letters, though a few were missing, leaving it to read "Cuttin Edg." 

Hugo gulped.

"Don't worry, man," Collins assured him, flashing one of his trademark grins. "This place is legit. Well, mostly. But trust me, you'll look like a whole new guy when we're done here."

"Define 'mostly,'" Hugo muttered under his breath as they walked in. How could a shop be 'mostly' legit?

The inside of the shop looked just as sketchy as the outside, with mismatched furniture and a haze of smoke hanging in the air. 

Posters of outdated hairstyles lined the walls, and the faint sound of heavy metal music thudded from a hidden speaker.

Behind the counter stood the barber—an old man with a wild grey beard and bloodshot eyes, who looked like he'd been riding a rollercoaster that never stopped. 

He greeted them with a nod, though his head swayed a little too much, like a bobblehead doll that had taken one too many hits.

"This here's Old Rick," Collins said, slapping Hugo on the back. "Best barber in town. He's been cutting hair since before you were born."

"Yeah, and maybe before he was born too," Hugo whispered as he nervously eyed the tools scattered across the counter. 

Half of them looked like they belonged in a medieval torture chamber rather than a barbershop.

It made him feel extremely unsafe...

Old Rick shuffled over, his bloodshot eyes squinting as he tried to focus on Hugo. 

"So, what are we doin' today, kid? A little trim? Some layers? Or maybe a mohawk? Mohawks are comin' back, y'know."

Hugo swallowed hard, glancing at Collins for reassurance. Collins just grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. 

Since Hugo really didn't know much about haircuts, he simply chose the easiest option. At least, he knew not to attempt the mohawk.

"Uh, just… just the bangs, I guess?" Hugo stammered, trying to keep his voice steady.

Old Rick blinked slowly, as if processing the request through a fog. 

"Bangs, right… bangs…" He fumbled around for a pair of scissors, knocking over a bottle of mystery liquid in the process. Hugo winced as the smell of cheap alcohol filled the air.

Rick finally found the scissors, but his hands were shaking so badly that Hugo started to regret ever stepping foot in the shop. 

"Y-You sure you're up for this?" Hugo asked hesitantly, watching as Rick positioned the scissors over his bangs.

"Relax, kid," Old Rick slurred, snipping at the air a few times before diving in. "I've been doin' this for decades. Got a few tricks up my sleeve, you'll see."

Hugo closed his eyes and tried to relax as the scissors started to cut. But then, there was a sudden, sharp tug, and Hugo's eyes flew open in alarm.

"Whoops," Rick muttered, sounding more amused than apologetic. He had taken a huge chunk out of Hugo's bangs, leaving a jagged line that looked like it had been chewed by a rabid animal.

"What the hell?!" Hugo yelped, staring at his reflection in horror. 

His bangs were gone—no, worse than gone.

They were mangled beyond recognition, leaving him with a weird, uneven fringe that made him look like he'd lost a bet!

"Rick, what are you doin', man?" Collins jumped in, waving his hands in the air. "You're supposed to be fixing him, not turning him into a science experiment!"

A science experiment?!

Old Rick blinked slowly, his eyes struggling to focus. "Relax, relax… just a little… adjustment…" 

He reached for the clippers next, his movements slow and unsteady, like he was trying to catch butterflies with his bare hands.

"No, no, no—wait!" Hugo tried to protest, but it was too late. The clippers buzzed to life and Rick started shaving away what little was left of his bangs. 

He was going at it like he was shearing a sheep, and before Hugo knew it, half his head was almost bald while the other half still had tufts of hair sticking out at odd angles.

"Are you kidding me?!" Hugo shouted, staring at the mirror in disbelief. "I look like a potato with a wig!"

Collins tried to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. "Dude… you look like an extra from a bad sci-fi movie."

Hugo was fuming, his face turning red as he glared at the barber. "This is ridiculous! You've ruined my hair! I'm going to leave the worst review this shop has ever seen. People will never come back here, not even for a refund!"

At the mention of a bad review, something seemed to click in Old Rick's foggy mind. His eyes cleared for a moment, and he looked at Hugo with sudden seriousness. 

"Wait, wait, kid. Don't do that. I can fix this—I swear. Just… give me one more chance."

Hugo crossed his arms, glaring. Did he even have a choice at this point? Did he dare to walk out looking like this?

"You've got five minutes."

Old Rick nodded vigorously, his hands suddenly steady as he grabbed the clippers again. 

This time, his movements were precise, almost surgical as he evened out Hugo's hair, transforming the chaotic mess into a neat buzz cut. 

It was as if the threat of a bad review had sobered him up instantly.

"There," Rick said, stepping back with a look of satisfaction. "How's that?"