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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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