Tiffany's Dream
by Laura Solomon
and Kerryn Young
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Sammy was hardly cold in
his grave when he appeared to me in a dream. He
was against a backdrop of clouds that looked like
they were made out of cotton wool and there was
gold glitter sprinkled all around him. Looked
like some schoolkid’s project and I thought
to myself O come on Sammy you can do better
than that. Lazy, even in the afterlife. Like
all angels he bore a message. Hey sweetheart,
your hairdressing gig’s gonna go tits up if
you don’t stop doing those ridiculous
eighties perms.You need to move on. Get with the
times. I took it as a warning; a sign from
above and I was grateful to Sammy for the tip.
I had to diversify. Next
day I went to the library and searched high and
low for the book “Peroxide for Dummies”
- I’d seen it before, when I was a student,
I’d had an idea I was going to become
Peroxide Queen of London - thank you Sammy for
providing just the inspiration I needed. I took
the book into work but hid it behind the counter
so people didn’t know I was a novice. How
hard could it be? My first victim was a wannabe
model, eighteen years old and full of herself.
Chloe was the name. Wanted ‘golden
highlights’ whatever the hell that means. I
bunged on the peroxide and left it for three
hours so it would be good and done. Went and had
a long leisurely lunch with my friends. Came back
and rinsed her off – I must admit I noticed
a certain amount of ‘golden highlights’
heading down the plughole but I didn’t pay
it any mind. She paid up so I was happy. The next
day the poor lamb came back in tears demanding
her money back, muttering that her modelling
career was over. I couldn’t hear her clearly
through the sobs. I told her I never did refunds.
She said she’d ‘get even’ whatever
the hell that means.
After that we had a boy
band called ‘Dicks Forever!’ –
they thought that the name empowered the penis,
but most people took it another way. They all had
short spikey hair and wanted frosted tips. I got
out the tinfoil. Wrapped them all up nice and
neat and went next door to see my mate at Nails
‘R Us and get my nails done. Came back and
rinsed them all off. Success!! They went away
smiling and laughing and I gave myself a mental
pat on the back and said Good job Tiff.
The next morning I turned
up to work and Dicks Forever! were sitting
outside my parlour looking grumpy. They took
their hats off in unison. Green tips!! I was
flabbergasted. I could not be held responsible
for this.
“What’s been
going on fellas”, I said. “What’s
with the green do?”
“You didn’t tell
us the hairdos weren’t chlorine resistant”,
the head boy yelped, sounding like a stuck puppy.
“We put our heads under in the hotel spa and
look at the results!! You didn’t warn us. We’re
suing! Your arse is grass lady. We can’t do
our gig tonight with this hideous green hair.”
Defensively, I grabbed my
purse, clutching it tight.
“Don’t blame me
for your own stupidity. Everyone knows not to put
their head under in a spa.”
They looked at each other
with vacancy in their eyes.
“You’re gonna
live to regret this lady. Nobody crosses swords
with Dicks Forever! and gets away with it!!”
He was turning red in the
face and spat as he spoke. They huffed of down
the street and I was left alone outside my
hairdressing parlour.
The final nail in the
coffin was when I did a lady called Stella –
she was the mayor’s wife. She came in
wanting a subtle change and went out with hair
the colour of Big Bird. Didn’t do much for
business. Snobby cow she must have told everybody
in town because I went out of business after that.
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