K. Pinella’s creative material
Image: Pixabay
A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 5, see Day 4
[Poetry dominates short story]
A man known as Cowlick comes out of the one restroom and raises his voice, “There’s no fire. I, uh, I lit a match because . . . to freshen the air. . .” He scowls at the woman known as Singed, who stands close to the restroom, speaking directly to her. “I didn’t know we have a human smoke detector.”
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Image: Pixabay
A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 4; see Day 3
[Poetic short story]
Her real name is Theresa and she hides what’s left of her hair under a turban. She sizes the group around her, trying to still her nerves. Maddie nods her head as a cue. She introduces herself, “Hello, my name is Shorned Locks. My desire to be festive got the better of me. It started three weeks ago and came to a head yesterday . . . which is why I’m here today.” She clears her throat for all to hear her sad monologue:
“On St. Patrick’s Day I dyed the ends of my hair green to be in the spirit of things. Alas, I botched it as the shade didn’t have the right sheen. Thus, I went to get my hair cut, which looked like a thatched hut. I had asked for layers to replace my blunt look. Instead, I resembled a beast from a wild nature book.
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Image: Pixabay
A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 3; see Day 2
[Poetry mashed with a short story]
Rebecca, who is known in their circle as Thin Hair, and Harry, who we know is False Hairy, find a coffee shop near the place of group therapy. They eye each other hungrily, as they feel the heat emanate from their respective chemistries.
“False Hairy, I hope you won’t think me forward, but as an older woman, I tend to get straight to the point. You make my heart beat as I gaze at your face so sweet.”
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Image: Pixabay
A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 2; see Day 1
[Poetry crashing into a short story]
“My toupee has blown away!” False Hairy screams.
“Everyone, please don’t move.” Maddie turns off the ceiling fan and apologizes, “I’m sorry, False Hairy, for forgetting some of us have hair that may go astray while the fan moves like a schizo UFO.”
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Image: Pixabay
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.”
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Image: Pixabay
[The song below is a loose parody of the hip-hop (rap) song Fergalicious, featuring Fergie and will. i. am of The Black Eyed Peas. To listen to the real song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5T0utQ-XWGY ]
(one, dos, three, cuatro)
Hey, hey, hear me out
Here’s a ditty come straight from my dorky heart
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Act 1: Behind the Times
“Oh . . .”
Act 2: Rearing to Go
“Yeah.”
Act 3: Bottoms Up
“Yay!”
Image: Pixabay
Mary Jo rushes to the airport’s public restroom. She has less than five minutes to greet Drew Hanson in the meeting lounge. He is one of her company’s bigger accounts and she has been sent to give him their preliminary report. As a habit drilled into her as a child, she quickly lines the seat with toilet tissue. She sits and relieves herself. After washing her hands, she dashes out, unaware of the toilet paper trailing behind her like a bride going down the aisle. Her face is ablaze with enthusiasm as she eagerly goes forth to make a good impression in her first client meeting.
The Makings of a Legendary Salad in Six Days
Day 1: Growing the greenest, lushest greens in a greenhouse
Day 2: Picking the greenest, lushest greens and washing them
Day 3: Packing the greenest, lushest greens into plastic containers
Day 4: Transporting the greenest, lushest greens to the supermarket
Day 5: Buying the greenest, lushest greens and putting them in a serving bowl
Day 6: Pouring your (store-bought) Caesar Salad dressing on the greenest, lushest greens in the serving bowl
Image: Pixabay
(A simple typo in a work email regarding booking a conference room called the Fish Bowl, because of its glass walls, becomes an object of despair for an unwitting working stiff — in the Fluorescent Light Zone.)
To: N. _ _ _ _ _
From: D. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Date: xx/xx/16
RE: Conference Room Request
Hi N.,
Please book the Fish Bowel from noon to two tomorrow. We’ll have lunch served there too . . . .
—————————————————————————————
(N. forwarded the flub to a co-worker friend for a one-minute giggle and the friend responded.)
To: N. _ _ _ _ _
From: A. _ _ _ _ _ _ _
That’s pretty shitty.
______________________________________________
As part of the Company’s Email Security Policy, random checks were being performed that day and the messages above were read by the IT Security Officer, who then had the HR Officer read them. In turn, the HR Officer showed it to D. _ _ _ _ , the requester of said conference room. D. was reprimanded because the error generated an unprofessional exchange that included a swear word. The powers that be had a brief meeting and concluded that such swear word is a gateway to more caustic swear words. As a result, D. was suspended from work for two days without pay and given the arduous project of writing 100 times with pen on paper the name of the conference room spelled correctly.
Moral: Do not flounder or you’ll be filleted and cooked like the proverbial fish jumping from the frying pan into the fire, as can only be experienced in the Fluorescent Light Zone.
Image: Pixabay
Karina Pinella 
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