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Humor September 2012

Jottings

Two White Poodles and the Green-Haired Woman

By Millie Moss

She was the loudest, and the flashiest of Auntie’s customers. She was, in fact, the widow of the legendary Hank Williams.  She was by far the liveliest of Aunt M’s dignified customers, and one could always hear her before they could see her.

My Aunt Mildred (for whom I’m named) owned and operated the fanciest, priciest beauty salon in Nashville, Tennessee.

Aunt Mildred’s customer list included the cream of Nashville’s society. They were quiet, dignified ladies who considered themselves fortunate, because the waiting list for Miz Townes’ (her last name by which she was mostly called) was very long. How my favorite of her customers made it onto the active list, was a mystery. Nobody could remember how she came to be there. She was the loudest, and the flashiest of Auntie’s customers. She was, in fact, the widow of the legendary Hank Williams. She was by far the liveliest of Aunt M’s dignified customers, and one could always hear her before they could see her.

At first, a throaty voice was heard shouting expletives from the back room. Then there was a loud clattering of high heels and dog toenails on the marble floors as Audrey stormed through the salon, desperately holding onto the jeweled leashes of two huge white poodles in one hand and a tower of wig boxes in the other. The fancy manicured dogs barked and nipped at the feet of the ladies under the dryers.

When she arrived in Aunt M’s private quarters, there were hugs all around, and Audrey settled herself in the swivel chair while the dogs arranged themselves on the floor around the chair. Popsie and Poopsie, as they were carelessly named, alternately fought with each other and snarled at anyone approaching the swivel chair.

Audrey’s thinning hair was rapidly succumbing to the ravages of time and decades of bleach. Aunt M urged her to let it grow out into its natural color, which was by now gray, and give it a rest. Audrey would have none of it. She became famous as a blonde and by all that was righteous, she would remain a blonde. She was scheduled for another bleach, although the previous bleaching was just three weeks ago.

“Audrey, you’re likely to go bald,” worried Aunt Mildred.

“No, I won’t, Honey. Don’t you worry about it,” reassured Audrey. “Slap it on there.”

When Audrey came out from under the dryer, Auntie turned her away from the mirror to comb out the set. Poor Auntie’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as she frantically backcombed the thin strands into the big hairdo Audrey favored.

The shampoo girl and I stared in disbelief. Audrey’s hair was pea green. Not a rich, grass green, but about the color of split pea soup.

Finally, there was nothing to do but turn the chair so that Audrey could see herself in the mirror. She stared, dumbfounded, for a few seconds and then let out a war whoop that must have been heard throughout the fancy-schmancy store. The poodles sprang to their feet and joined in the melee, barking and jumping wildly around the chair.

Aunt Mildred was surprisingly cool.

“What’s the matter, Audrey? Are you all right?”

“My hair! It’s green!’’

“What are you talking about?” asked Aunt Mildred, incredulously. “I never heard such a thing. Your hair is the color it always is. At least you’re not bald.” Audrey continued to stare bug-eyed at her reflection.

“Come in here, Miz Armstrong,” called Auntie to one of the outside stylists. “Miz Williams here says her hair looks green. Does that hair look green to you?”

Said Miz Armstrong, picking up her cue: “It’s just beautiful, Miz Williams, and exactly the color it’s supposed to be. It’s only the light in here It turns blonde hair sort of green.”

“You know, Audrey,” said Aunt M, thoughtfully stroking her chin, “I’ve always liked this wig on you,” as she picked up the nearest wig, “and it doesn’t really need styling. Let’s see how it looks as I remember it.” She inserted a few random curls as she fit the wig to Audrey’s head. “That’s just perfect, Audrey. Your hair is getting so thin, I think this wig is perfect on you.”

Audrey seemed satisfied just as the dogs’ patience melted away. They pulled her out the door.

Aunt Mildred and Miz Armstrong gave Audrey a carefree goodbye wave as she left the building. “See you next week, Hon.”

The two of them sank into the nearest chairs. I tried to restrain myself, but it was just too funny. “I think that color green was way too subtle for Audrey,” I said, trying to stifle a giggle. Both ladies gave me the evil eye, and I could swear they snarled at me through their teeth.

They sounded just like Popsie and Poopsie, but I didn’t tell them. It seemed the better part of wisdom to just let that one go.

 

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