Dumb Blonde

Chapter 1 Phoenix

I don't understand why everyone hates blondes. Just because we are different, doesn't mean we're bad. I mean, all my converted hair isn't because I'm stupid. I get it for just being me. Brunettes, on the other hand could not get any more annoying. I mean seriously, who the heck cares if they don't have a single strand of blonde on their head, I sure as hell don't. Just because in the eyes of the Council they were perfect, that doesn't mean they are better than all the rest of us. That just means they're goody two shoes who are too coward to be themselves because let's be honest, in the words of some Hannah Montana that my great great (who knows how many greats) grandmother, Dorothy, would always write so highly of in her diary, "nobody's perfect". But all the brunettes cared about was declaring their superiority over everyone.

I sighed. I could not say that at my next "Blonde Hair - Don't Care" convention. It sounded too much like a lunatic who loved to complain, not a girl who seeks equality. My mind had hit a brick wall, and I couldn't seem to find the sledge hammer I need in order to break it down. The number one priority in my life was to support Hair Color Equality (HCE), and to stop the government from injecting this stupid serum in us to make us all feel bad about ourselves. I just really suck at speeches; I don't know how to speak my mind without sounding like a complete idiot. Maybe if I were to just make the speech a bit more personal, something like...

My hair is a sunny, golden color, except for at the bottom which is a dull, ugly, dark brown. Imagine if you had this beautiful head of gorgeous yellow hair, and you just dunked the tips in a bucket of shit, that's what my hair looks like. Society might think that I'm a hopeless case, but I don't care. The supporters of HCE may be the minority around here, but that doesn't make us weak, and it doesn't make our fight worthless. We just have to fight a little bit harder to reach our goal, but you know what they say "no pain, no gain". If anything, every day the number of Hair Color Equality supporters grows. Gradually, more and more people are becoming blonde. We're not doing anything wrong, except being ourselves, but how is that a crime? We blondes get treated like garbage; it's not fair that we get punished for being human.

Oh, yes! I seem to have found my sledge hammer, that would be perfect for the convention. I quickly wrote that down in my notebook, making sure that the man who appeared to be sleeping next to me didn't see what I was writing. He seemed harmless enough, yet so did all the other government officials. All of the sudden while I was leaning down to put my notebook in my bag, the bus hit a bump and I whacked my head on the window. Are you kidding me! After all the technology advancements that we've had, they couldn't find a way to create better shock absorbers? After a glare at the bus driver, I glanced down at my watch which told me that is was 3:28. Gosh dang it! This stupid bus was going to make me late again. With a sigh, I rested my head on the window but quickly picked it back up again do to the stupid bus's constant bumping. After what seemed like hours (which was probably only 2 minutes), a very monotone, robotic female voice echoed through the speakers, "We are approaching Stop 252, please be ready to step off. We are approaching Stop 252, please be ready to step off. The city of Chicago and its suburbs thank you for riding the Chi-Town express, we look forward to seeing you again."

I stood up and made my way down the aisle, which was extremely difficult with all the bags and feet laying in the walkway. I almost tripped a few times, but luckily I grabbed on to a pole right before I fell flat on my face. Once I stepped off the bus, I glanced back and saw that nobody but me got off. That didn't surprise me because Stop 252 was in the middle of Downtown Naperville, which was considered to be a very dangerous place. What was once an area that was always full of laughs and love, and was one of the best downtowns in the state of Illinois (according to Dorothy's diary), was now a place of ruin and sadness. The war had savaged the area, and it was now home to the poorest and lowliest people. Gangs weren't uncommon. Downtown Naperville had the highest rate of crime in Illinois, which is funny because Dorothy wrote that back in the olden days, Naperville was rated the safest city in the entire country! All of the violence, drugs, and gangs downtown are such a contrast to the wealthy neighborhood just south of here.