Blow Dry
Down at the salon the only talk under the dryers was the election. Oh, the storm of the decade got a little play, but like the wind itself, it came and went with barely a whimper. The election, though, swirled like a tornado, styling chair to styling chair, fueled further by every new appointment.
“I’ll just be glad when the whole thing is over,” Kate, the newest stylist at the Cut’nClip, sighed after Abby Jorgenson had stepped out the front door, saying as she left her dollar tip that she just didn’t know who she would vote for.
“Oh sweetie,” Ronald had said down by the sink as he washed Myrtle Martin’s graying hair, “you mean it’s a hard choice? Between the first woman president and a serial womanizer?”
“Take it easy, Ronald,” Myrtle cried, “you’re digging holes in my scalp.” “Sorry,” Ronald apologized, “but good Lord, I can’t imagine voting for a man with that HAIR! It’s so not natural.”
“You judge a man by his hair?” Marie on Chair #2 asked. “Oh sweetheart,” Ronald sniffed, toweling off Myrtle’s newly shampooed locks, “the boy is 100% phony. His hair, my god, it’s golden and the man is 70 years old. Like a Greek god.”
“Grecian Formula, maybe,” Sally said from Chair #1 and Ronald snorted. Becky Myers laughed as Sally hit her with a hot blast from her blow dryer. “Ronald, you’re a crackup,” she said. “What about Hillary? She changes hairstyles more than she changes pantsuits.”
“Omigod, isn’t that the truth,” Ronald squealed happily. “I’d be rich if she were my client, that’s the holy gospel. Think of the jobs that woman will create. Ten stylists standing by at the White House.”
“Five more on Air Force One,” Sally tossed in.
And so it goes at the Cut’nClip. After the election, maybe they can return to the usual gossip. We’ll all be thankful is all I can say.
Hits: 36