Wigs & Ripov
by Albert Russo
That morning, for some
inexplicable reason, a number of people in Ripov's
neighborhood awoke completely bald. This state of
affairs stirred the individuals concerned to band
together in an association that called itself 'The
Hair-Rooted Crusaders.' It was an impromptu set-up,
and, as such, it had no specific aim other than
that of lamenting in chorus over its plight. Its
motivation stemmed primarily from a sense of
dismay and bewilderment.
Full of compassion, Ripov
decided he'd do something about it. Thus he went
to his little Italian barber and spelled out the
situation. Wigs! The idea sprang almost
simultaneously into the minds of both men.
Yes, the little barber
would supply himself with a quantity of wigs to
save the whole association. As for Ripov, he
would rally up the bald folk and convince them of
the appropriateness of such a proposition. (Let
it be stressed that Ripov's intention was of a
purely altruistic nature. No strings attached -
he emphatically declined the twenty percent
commission on sales offered by his Italian
partner.)
The news spread like
simmering lava, and the next morning about fifty
people cum dog and/or cat presented themselves at
the barbershop. Amidst a cacophony of slurs,
moanings, barks and meows, Ripov struggled to
calm down the party by lining them up. He had to
raise his voice so that they would keep quiet and
behave.
“You will all be
attended to in due course,” he assured them,
adding, “and please, don't panic should a
wig not fit you. The right sizes will be
delivered to us as soon as possible.”
While the first customer-victim
was trying on a wig, Ripov addressed each person
with a kind word. Some whimpered, others sniffed.
They all looked so disconsolate! Even the dogs
and their feline arch-enemies seemed to
appreciate the gravity of the moment, for they
too stood still.
As Ripov inadvertently
stroked the gleaming head of a young woman - she
was queuing up next to her husband, right behind
their two children and pair of cocker spaniels -,
the facts suddenly dawned upon him. A hair-raising
discovery indeed! Those poor souls he was taking
care of were either singles or members of a
household and all of them had one thing in common:
they were cat or dog owners.
“Oh my God!”
exclaimed Ripov. “Cru-, cru-crusaders ...”
he went on uttering. Then, oblivious of the crowd,
he mentioned something to the effect that he had
once cast a spell on animal owners because he
deemed it criminal that humans should use a cat
or dog to have them as servile playmates.
Berore he knew it, Ripov
was running for his life, protecting his head
from which tufts of hair had been pulled out.
Flying like a daft eagle, Ripov eventually
escaped the mob.
Ripov has now joined a
circus. No one would ever imagine that those
three bald patches on clown Ripovski's head are
anything but a wigmaker's whim.
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