A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 1
[Poetry in collusion with a short story]
Haironymous Bush reads the plaque on the door. Inside are people of varied sizes, ages, and sexual persuasions with one thing in common and nothing more. Their bad hair days outnumber the good. They all stand in attention as their Chapter Hairmeister, Maddie O’Hare, leads the opening prayer, “Dear Lord, help us overcome our frizzies, split ends, and turmoil over our tresses. Bless us with a calmer mood.”
“Amen,” All fifteen people standing around Maddie in a circle say in unison. They sit down, while Maddie assumes the role of a quasi-beautician. She inserts herself between a newcomer and an old-timer, who has unruly side-whiskers.
“Friends, please welcome a new member. As a reminder, when we introduce ourselves, the name we give is based on the condition of our hair so everyone will immediately know our problem and sympathy can then be spread quicker.” Maddie looks at the woman sitting next to her, encouraging her to take over the floor.
The woman looks around, smiling at the group tentatively. She pats her hair and says, “Hello, my name is Mousey. As you see, my hair is a shade made for black and white T.V. No color, no joie de vivre, just there . . .” She takes out tissues to blow her nose. She continues, “I go through three boxes of color a week, but I always end up with the same tint that looks meek. Eek . . .” Her voice comes out as a squeak.
As customary of expression of their sympathy, the group sounds off a combined groan, “Ohnn . . . ohnn . . . ohnn . . . ” After three rounds of groans, Maddie takes out two hair color mixing bowls from her tote bag and whacks them together to signal the end of the meeting. “Thwack, thwack.” Silence ensues. One by one, everyone gets up to mingle with the objective of giving the new member at least a single compliment. They part by telling one another, “No muss day.”
Maddie is happy to see everyone feeling less crappy. Suddenly, someone screams . . .