The New You
Some of the ladies down at the Salon were engaged in a Round Table discussion during perms and touch-ups. It’s a mixed clientele at the Salon, partly the result of stylists who run the gamut from tattoos and piercings with rainbow streaked hair to the primly permed. It does make for lively debates under the blowdryers. Ronald, the token gay guy, he of the nose ring and silk puffy shirts was listening to Carol Wanderman’s diatribe on the Pope’s call to tackle global warming as a moral issue. She was deeply Catholic and she didn’t want the Holy See stepping into politics, especially when she disagreed with him. “What does he know about science?” she asked the room.
“Oh, sweetie,” Ronald sniffed, “you are SO right on. Didn’t they send Galileo to the Inquisition?”
Carol shook her curlers like evil talismen at him, started to respond, but Jill in the chair next door, jumped in first. “I don’t mind the pontiff piping in,” she said while Brenda snipped and clipped Jill’s new bangs. “But if he thinks global warming is a moral question, what about population control? You think all these new people in 3rd world countries aren’t the REAL problem?”
Mrs. Ketchum arched a penciled eyebrow from above her apron. “The world has to grow, dear. You can’t dictate morals in the bedroom.” To which Ronald snorted wildly, tossing back his newly curled coif. “Tell THAT to the queer haters.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word, Ronald,” Mrs. Ketchum protested. “It’s unbecoming.” Ronald giggled. “The Q word, you mean. Well, darlings, that’s a word of pride now.”
“Oh Ronald …” Kathy at the far chair sighed.
“And,” Ronald continued, “you ladies should thank us for NOT contributing to population growth. Talk about cutting down carbon footprints! I mean ….!”
“Oh we do, Ronald,” Jill laughed, “we do. We broke the mold after you.”
“All I ask,” he smiled, “is the proper appreciation.” He handed Betty, his walk-in client who must have thought she was getting styled in Oz, a mirror and asked, “How do you like the New You?”
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