Pig's Legs Soul Survivor

Pig's Legs Soul Survivor

Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett – gone in one fell swoop!  The passing of Farrah had obvious repercussions in the Pigs Legs Waxing and Beauty Salon – the death of a value-added hairstyle.

Glenda was troubled by her patron’s glee over the indignity of the anal cancer.  Early Monday morning, straight after turning on the sterilizer and the kettle, she pulled out a women’s mag to have another look at near-death Farrah.  She looked like a beautiful woman with a soul – where was the cause for glee in indignity?

Seeing an errant piece of wax she walked to the bin, and stood there pondering the crumpled poster of Farrah within.  She reached in and thoughtfully smoothed it.  Farrah gave her the Instant Flash, and as instantly Glenda Knew – those teeth, that hair.

Women saw Farrah’s Instant Flash and assumed her Instant Competition.  Men saw her Instant Flash and assumed her Instant Rejection.

If only her soul had received the opportunity for public appearance.  Ah well…

“As for Michael Jackson still alive on the next page of the mag” she thought, drinking her starter coffee “his picture says Instant Weird Tainted With Molestation Issues”.

Usually Glenda worked on her regulars but perm girl Loretta couldn’t make it in that morning – some difficulty about her childcare centre shutting down.

“Hi, I’ll be doing your perm today Robyn – Loretta’s off.  How’s your morning been?”

“Not good – childcare centre problems.”

“You too! ABC?”  Glenda asked.

“Yep.”

“So what was Loretta doing for you?”

“An afro.”

Glenda was taken aback, looking at Robyn’s gorgeous sleek hair.  Afro’s hadn’t been In since Michael Jackson went straight – and her client was instantly wary.

“You can do afro’s?” Robyn checked.

“Easy!” said Glenda quickly.   And from somewhere deep within a rhythm formed in her soul… she breathed in and suddenly the soul song slipped out on her breath “Easy as 1-2-3!”

A little giggle came from under the setting hood, and Glenda was embarrassed.

Daphne came out “Is Loretta OK?”  Glenda was grateful for Daphne’s deflection.

“Yes, she just got childcare problems – didn’t I tell you already?”

Daphne prompted “Which centre?”  And Glenda was trapped by a salon of laughter.

She grabbed a hairbrush.

“Watch your bottoms, girls!” Daphne shrieked, but the hairbrush rose to Glenda’s ruby red lips, her left arm rose, palm skyward …

“ABC!

Easy as 1-2-3!

[Mike swap]

Or simple as do re mi!”

[girls join in]

“ABC

1-2-3

Do re mi

Baby you and me girl!”

They laughed in their moment.

“Michael Jackson was so cute when he was little” said Robyn.  “Such a shame where it all went to.

“He gave us that lovely song” said Daphne.

“He should’ve kept the afro.  Look where it got Obama.”  Glenda knew it was all about the hair.

Daphne was thoughtful.  “You know what I think the problem was – he was black.  He had an afro.  He had a wide nose.  What did he do?  He went white, straight hair, little nose.”

“What about if he was sixteen now? – Obama! black, afro, nose.”

“Gorgeous!” said Daphne.

“Michael would be gorgeous” sighed Robyn.

“You were a fan?” asked Glenda

“He rocked me.  All night.  Danced me into day.”

[girls croon]  “Sunlight”

Finishing off, Glenda admired Robyn’s sleek pink silk pants with a glance.  “OK then, Rockin Robyn.  Perm’s in.  You’re free to tweet.  Would you like a tea or coffee?”

“Ha!  Now you’ve done it Glenda” shrieked Daphne as Robyn moved to centre salon.

“Get behind me girls – we’re doing this one together – give me the hairbrush – come in on the chorus.”

“He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin’ and a-boppin’ and singing his song
All the little birdies on Jaybird Street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet

Rockin’ robin, tweet tweet tweet
Rockin’ robin’ tweet tweetly-tweet
Blow rockin’ robin
‘Cause we’re really gonna rock tonight

“You know” said Glenda.  “You’re really very good Robyn – you could almost do a show.”

“I could do fifty shows” said Robyn.  “I love it.  I need a tan though – bit pale – have you got a solarium?”

“She does” said Daphne, “But she shouldn’t put you in there – they’re dangerous.”

“They’re not dangerous.  It’s the sun that’s the problem.”

“Oh sister…” said Robyn,

“Don’t blame it on the sunshine

Don’t blame it on the moonlight

Don’t blame it on the good times

Blame it on the boogie”

“WAAaaaoroh!”

Glenda saw Merv looking through the window.  He was just looking.  Glenda was so freed by the moment she gave him a full smile, but he didn’t notice her.  She thought about her teeth, and smiled again but with her lips shut.  He looked at her, sort of worried, and Glenda dashed out of the salon.  It only took an inquiring glance into Merv’s eyes.

“That’s Michael Jackson”

“What?”

“That’s Michael Jackson, in your salon.”

“What?”

“In the shiny pants”

Glenda got it.  “That’s Robyn.  She’s come in for a perm.”

Merv looked in again.  He didn’t look back at Glenda.  “I’ve gotta get back to the pub.”

Glenda left the singing to others, as she pondered Merv’s madness

“You went quiet Glenda” said Daphne at the end of the day.

“Did you notice anything about Robyn?”

“What?”

“You know when my curling wand accidentally flew at her crutch?  Did you see the way she grabbed it?”

“Strange moment” Daphne admitted.  “I’ve never had a curling wand accident like that before.”

“Well I’m off” she said, leaving Glenda alone.

Glenda rang her friend, Crystal Ball, clairvoyant to the Pigs Legs Salon. “Crystal?  Is Michael Jackson really dead?”

Crystal consulted the heavens.

“His soul lives” she replied.

Glenda knew what to do and scanned her walls.  She pulled down the poster of Brad Pitt and put it face down on the floor.  She sponged the white background with auburn henna tones, and penned with her ruby red lipstick, outlined in khol black eyeliner…

Michael Jackson seen in this Salon!

And on the back of the smoothed poster of Farrah she wrote

Confirmed by Clairvoyant.

She went outside and brought in the sandwich board.  With some wax she stuck on the posters.  She pulled on her coat, picked up her keys and took a last glance back at the board, satisfied with what she’d organized tomorrow to bring.  She heaved her end-of-work sigh and smiled, turned off the lights, shut the door, and turned left towards the Pigs Arms pub.

Walking through the door of the crowded bar she screamed across to Merv “You were absolutely right Merv, it was Michael Jackson in the Salon!”