Mr O Hair Novels & Stories

That was the look of someone who thought he owned the place. “And you are?” I frowned. The mysterious man let out a chuckle. My eyes scanned his heart-shaped lips before they traveled back to his eyes. His dark brown hair was styled into a sloppy ponytail, giving him a bold look. “I don’t know who you are, but your hair looks good!” Ashley spoke out of nowhere. “Tell me? What kind of products do you use?” She stood on her toes to touch his hair. The man had a startled expression on his face, and it was probably because he had yet to meet someone like Ashley. “Uh...I wash it with aloe vera and healing clay, and after that, I put in some tea tree mint conditioner and...who are you?”

It’s the hair that grows out of my scalp! God gave you your hair, and God gave me mine! It’s mine! And I’m proud of it! You don’t have the right to tell me to hide my hair, just because your hair comes out of your scalp straight, doesn’t make it any better than mine, which comes out of my scalp curly!”

His black hair was pushed back with gel, the grey roots by his hairline fully exposed. He was handsome for his age, even with the wrinkles you could tell that he was a catch in his teenage years. He wasn't wearing his glasses and I finally saw the colour of his eyes. They were dark brown, close to appearing black. He was quite tall and lean too, his arms solid with pure muscle. "Ms Rutherford," Mr Hughes greeted, making me stop staring like a creep and look up at him. I stood up from my chair and walked to them. "Good morning, I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

Darius shot him the bird without looking up from his phone. “Moving on,” Mia said. “We need to talk about this hair.” That got his attention. He looked up from his phone and squinted at her like he hadn’t understood what she was saying. “What’s wrong with my hair?” he asked. “The fans love my mohawk. I have little kids getting their hair cut just like it.” “Firstly, it’s not a mohawk. It’s a fauxhawk at best and a mullet at worst.”

“Like, completely bald? Or are we talking a buzz cut?” “Bald,” Ryan repeats. “All of it. Gone.” The barber, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair named Joe, sets down his clipper and crosses his arms. “You got some sort of condition I need to know about? Cancer? Alopecia?” “No,” Ryan says. “I’m fine. I don’t need a pity session. Just shave my head.” Joe hesitates, then shrugs. “It’s your hair, man. But you’ve got great hair. Thick. Full. You sure you wanna waste it?”

And they had better hair back then, which was something Ruthie couldn't resist pointing out. "Wow," she gushed. "Hair really does change their look." Mom's blonde hair hung past her shoulders and Dad's light brown hair sported some serious waves. His thick sideburns looked so funny they made my lips twitch. I tapped on another man with layered blonde hair and a beard. "This is Uncle Ira. He owns the rec center where I worked, remember?"

Riker laughed, “whatever you say old man. Your hair is telling a different story.” Cyrus shook his long hair in the wind, “you’re jealous because I can rock my salt and pepper hair, while your hair is already thinning and Osiris is bald.” Riker’s hair wasn’t thinning at all and I was bald by choice, but we all laughed anyway.

he asked sarcastically. I carefully looked at his hair, which was very different. He had quite a unique haircut that was styled into a high ponytail that extended down his back. The sides of his head were shaved, with a sharp, defined line running parallel to the shaved area, giving a clean, edgy contrast to the longer hair on top.

she said sincerely, her appreciation evident in her eyes. Ruan, with his signature sass, responded, "I know," with a playful flip of his imaginary hair off his shoulders, a gesture that suited his stylish boy cut haircut, accentuating his facial features and adding a certain allure to his appearance. "About your current job, are you planning to go in tomorrow?" he inquired.

He read the name written in bold out loud in question. Opening a new tab, he put his research skills to work. There were too many profiles that popped up under the name but one look at the brief information sent alongside their new mission, it was easy to find their next target. An old man who was in his late seventies popped up and Rod was not all too surprised about that.