Your Bad Hair Day

You're going to have a bad hair day today.

You'll wake up in the morning to a phone call from your sister back east.

"Mom and died are dead. Their cruise ship sank and...there were no survivors." She'll tell you, her words broken by the heart-wrenching sobs. You'll take a moment while the news sets in, and as you do you'll catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on your dresser. Your hair is going to be horribly misformed because last night you slept on your stomach instead of your back.

You'll get in the bathroom, and just before you turn on the shower you'll hear your front door get kicked in. "Looks like no one's home, let's just take what we can and get out of here!" You hear someone shout. You'll wait quietly in your bathroom and hope the robbers don't think to look there for valuables. You'll idly (but still quietly) look through your things to pass the time and you'll notice that you're out of your hair product of choice.

And your hair hasn't calmed down at all.

After the robbers leave your apartment, you'll shower (you're out of conditioner too) and called the police. When they show up you'll do your best to help with the investigation but you'll notice them casting sidelong glances at your hair and snickering behind your back. "Looks like the damage is going to be pretty expensive, and they took the safe hidden behind your mirror as well. You say the family jewels were in there? Bummer...", Generic officer 1 will say as he's trying not to laugh at the unkempt and stringy mop of hair on your head.

As you're driving to work, almost two hours late after all the nonsense that's been delaying you and distracting you from fixing your hair, you'll naturally be attempting to fix your hair using your rear view mirror. Unfortunately, on this particular morning, your primping will result in a head on collision when you accidentally try to use the southbound offramp as a northbound onramp.

You'll wake up in the hospital later that night, the doctor and nurse standing over you with sympathetic looks on their faces.

"You're lucky, you ought to be dead. Someone up there must like you. I'm sorry to have to give you this news, but although we were able to save your legs, they'll never be fully functional again. And we had to remove your right arm just below the elbow."

You take a moment to absorb the news and reply "Well, I'm sure you did what you could doc, thanks."

The doctor nods, your incredible resolve in the face of such hardship bringing a small sad smile to his lips. As he turns to leave he mentions almost as an afterthought, "Oh, you also damaged a part of your skull in the crash, we had to put a plate in your head to supplement your brain's natural protection. Don't worry though, there was no internal damage whatsoever."

"Doc, Wait!" You shout just before the door slams shut behind him. He slowly comes back to your bedside...knowing what's coming next....

"What are you tellin' me doc... What are you sayin'? Don't do this to me, I gotta know everything's gonna be alright, give me some hope!"

He just listens...waiting for the inevitable question...

"Doc...my hair...." your words are forced and slow, as they seem to be choking you on the way out. You need to know, but you're terrified to ask.

"Will I...will I ever have a good hair day again doc? Or did the plate....did it mess up my part? Just give it to me straight, I can take it, I just gotta know, I just gotta know! I just gotta know...." your voice trails off weakly as you wait to hear the words that will either save or ruin your life...

The doctor stares at you for what seems like an eternity. Twice he opens his mouth as if to speak, but even for him, it's too much. He raises his lowered eyes to meet your gave, and he slowly shakes his head, left to right....left to right....You sink back in your gurney, the shock almost too much to handle. The doctor once more opens the door to leave.

"I'm sorry....I really am....We did everything we could..."

He leaves and quietly shuts the door behind him. The sound of the latch clicking into place sounds to you like the lock of your coffin snapping shut before your bones are laid to rest in the cold ground.

This is your bad hair day. Enjoy.