A girl with long, flowing hair walks in the front door of the ever popular "Great Clips" hair salon. "I'd like a haircut, please.""Oh sure," the hair stylist replies, chewing gum viciously. "Just sit right here."
A harsh ring, the telephone. The stylist answers the cordless phone and brings it back to her work station. "Oh, hi Shirley. Haven't heard from you in a while." She speaks loudly in the phone, with her high-pitched obnoxious voice. She leans the girl into the uncomfortable sink and begins to rinse her hair.
"That's hot!" the girl belches.
"Sorry deary," the stylist replies absently, still on the phone. "Oh-my-god, are you serious, Shirl? That tramp. I always knew..."
The girl closes her eyes as her head is lathered, fingers prying at her skull. "Hey, that's a little hard," she cries, the stylist unforgiving.
Finally, the girl is placed in the cutters chair and wheeled around with the mirror to her back. She focuses on a poster across the room.
"Really? Them? Together? Amazing! But he's so old... oh, yeah, he's loaded, huh?" The stylist, phone propped between shoulder and ear, begins cutting the girls hair. Snipp snipp.
The girl asks quietly, "Don't you want to know how much I want cut off?"
To the phone, "Another slut, I can't believe..." to the girl, "You can tell me in a minute deary," back to the phone, "someone would do something like that. The nerve of..."
The girl waits patiently, that high, gum-smacking voice blaring behind her head.
"Did you hear about Peg? Poor girl, breaking her foot and everything. How did it happen? Uh-huh..." Snipp snipp.
Geez, what is taking so long, the girl ponders. Guess I should have come in sooner, I knew my hair was getting long but wow.
"Good lord! I hope that never happens to me. Yah... yah... okay then, talk to you later Shirley. Uh-huh. Say hello to Bob for me. Alright then. Bye-bye." Click. The stylist sets the phone on the counter and finishes the girls hair. She runs a comb through it a couple times and whirls the chair around so it is facing the mirror.
The girl's jaw drops and her hands fly instantly to her head. Stunned, she gasps, "What... how... oh, you... my..."
"How long did you say you wanted it cut?"
The girl, nearly bald, moves her hands to just below her shoulders trying to mutter "here" through light sobs.
The stylist, chewing away, replies, "Oh well, it'll grow back."
The girl stands up with a push from the stylist and is asked for fifteen dollars. Instinctively, she shoves her hand into her purse and pays in complete silence. The stylist counts the money, smacking her gum loudly, "Have a nice day," and pushes the girl, who is grasping at invisible locks, out with her hands. The stylist grabs a broom and walks over to her station as the phone rings.
"Oh hi, Trish. Haven't heard from you in a while," and sweeps away the piles of freshly cut hair.