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Village Squire, 1978-10, Page 15The mysterious moustache A short story by Harry Ellis Ask around for the best barber shop in the Festival City and as sure as eggs are eggs and little green apples are twelve to a dozen you'll be told it's Peter Van's place: Ask for the nearest barber shop if you like. it won't make any difference where you are at the time. the chances are that you'll be given exactly the same ansy.er--Peter Van's place; "You can't miss it, it's just up and across the street from the Avon Theatre on Downie". Big. Lone. Wide. and other pet names too unhumorous to mention y. ere often given to Jonathan Slivver the actor who, besides landing the fat part of Falstaff in one of the Shakespearian plays had also been given a couple of other fat parts in other fat plays which necessitated the wearing of a moustache and heard. Big. Long. Wide (Take your pick!) Jon had never liked false beards and tacky moustaches, they had a nasty habit of coating unstuck at the wrong moments and couldn't he relied on. "There's no way" he'd once told Sir Laurence. "that actors should have to depend upon beards, beards should aly.ays depend on actors" and Old Larry had laughed and agreed with hint. Jonathon asked the Artistic Director if it was OK to grow his O. n for the season and the affable Director had given his permission. "Sure Jon -if you can -‘:e can al ays have it chopped off if it turns out unsuitable. Can't we?". In four winter months Long Jon not only could but did grow a suitable fluffy salt and pepper outfit that suited his lengthy frame right dov n to the ground although it extended nowhere near so tar. The moustache in particular was his pride and joy; a v, hole lot saltier than the rest of the fluff, its waxed. curlied ends jutted proudly out from his upper lip like bentwood chapel hat -pegs: To amuse his friends he'd often hang a couple of light strata boaters over the strong, rigid hooks of hair and by clever manipulations of his neck and head would spin these around in opposite directions. He performed the trick best he found, when he'd had a few drinks and with an eye towards perfection practised it quite often. The only thing about the beard that bugged him was the section underneath the main bush which furred the inside of his shirt collars and caused him some pain and discomfort by tangling around the topmost buttons. In his one attempt to trim the offending area himself he'd discovered that when he tilted his head to stretch the neck he was unable to see -in a mirror - what he was doing. so he asked around the stagehands for the best. or the most convenient barber shop in the district and sure enough, eggs remained eggs and twelve green apples still made up an even round dozen. Standing in front of the Avon Theatre, Big Jon looked up and across the street. saw the sign 'Peter Van's Barber Shop -4 Chairs -No Waiting'. walked across the street and up to it, paused -by habit -at the door. then made an entrance, that is to say -he vent in----. Harvey Costa, the only one of the four barbers without a client at that particular time had -by sheer coincidence -a mental prayerwheel churning around in his head begging St. Cripes, the Patron Saint of Lousy Barbers to cause a bewhiskered gentleman needing a shave to walk through the door. The reason he wanted such a one to walk through the door was that he desired to put a new-fangled razor -bought the day before -to its very first test. The razor, a sparkling chrome -plated beauty. looked for all the world like a barbers old-fashioned, standard cut-throat type when it was in the closed position; However. opened out and examined closely it could be seen that the business end was nothing more than a super -slim, single -edged, safety -razor blade (75 cents for six) which slotted smoothly and slickly into a stainless steel socket. He had scoffed -as any red-blooded barber would -when shown the thing; nevertheless he'd allowed the man in the barbers supply store to deliver a full sales pitch. This salesman had assured Harvey that, if he was in the market for a new razor then this 'little beauty' was the one to have as it would save him much time and make him lots of money. "It never needs honing and never needs stropping -you'll save ten hours a week right there" he'd said, overestimating by 10,000 percent the amount of time which barbers of Harvey's calibre devote to honing and stropping razors. "When a blade gets dull" he'd gone on, "you simply slide it out and slip in a new one, a fraction of a second -just like that!", and he'd snapped his fingers at 'that' to let Harvey see just how quickly a fraction of a second passes. Admitting that he was in the market only after spotting the low, low price on the tag, $7.50 (blades included), Harvey had taken just one. Harvey took just one look at the huge hair -faced man coming in at the door and the mental prayerwheel took another one of its turns, "Oh Cripes!" it churned out. "1 want to wade in the shallows and I'm about to be dropped in the deeps"; he feigned alertness--- "Good morning Sir -Haircut?" he asked, patting his chair on the back. Big Jonathan looked at him, then. not quite liking what he saw. glanced around the shop to see if he had a choice of barbers before committing himself to this weedy one. A look of disappointment crossed his face when he noticed that the likelier prospects were already busy. "Morning" he boomed, "No. I don't want a haircut, 1 want a shave". Harvey shrugged his shoulders, "Okay Sir", he said, giving the chair a pat on the headrest. "Right here in the deep end please". "Deep end"? Jon queried, his eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. Harvey couldn't think why he'd said 'deep end' but recovered quickly. "Deep end-er-yes-it's a joke Sir -a joke, I call my chair here the Deep End because I dee-pend on it for a living-D'you get it?". Long Wide Jonathan didn't seem to want it, "What the hell VILLAGE SQUIRE/OCTOBER 1978. PG.13.