Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

The woman was no traditional beauty. The features of her face offset each other, strong brows balanced out by a good jawline, close set eyes made better by pretty hazel green, high cheekbones drew attention away from thin lips. The one treasure she allowed herself was her hair. It was long, the colour of mahogany and held a lustrous sheen. Even her hair, though, needed the assistance of implements to achieve maximum beauty. Her most vital tool was her Hair Dryer, a faithful companion for fifteen good years, for without it her hair lost its smoothness and polished finish.

One morning, she awoke, showered, attempted to make better her facial flaws and then drew out her beloved Hair Dryer. Hair Dryer looked worse for wear, moreso than usual, and when the woman plugged the tool in and switched it on, it emitted a groan and a wheeze. She recognized the signs.

"O, do not die on me today!" she cried.

Hair Dryer spit out blasts of air, and more wheezes.

"You cannot!" the poor woman sobbed, shaking Hair Dryer gently. "Do you not know I need you?"

Her words moved Hair Dryer, and it tried for ten minutes, coughing and expelling useless gusts of cool air only at the lower setting; the higher, necessary setting was impossible.

"Please, please. It's Monday. You can't die on a Monday."

Hair Dryer sputtered and went silent.

The woman sobbed, hair still very damp and bedraggled.

The End


Woe, it is a sad tale. It's been dying for months but I didn't want to face it. *sob*

Also, Dude I had a rotten time with on Saturday is in town (he lives up north) and wants to have dinner. Seriously, what?