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 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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Biography 1: The Prude
“Hmph.”
Biography 2: The Cad
“Heh . . .”
Biography 3: The Fugly
“Huh?”
Karina Pinella 
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