Carebears, Hippy Inspired Parents and the New Weres in Town.

Chapter Seven - Nice Hair, Nice, Nice Hair.

Chapter 7 – Nice Hair, Nice, Nice Hair.

“It appears so.” Mr. Baboon hesitated, the same sort of tone in his voice that you would use with temperamental five year old. Do I look five? I mean, sure, I’ll give him temperamental, but I have most definitely gone through puberty.

“Dude, are you blind?” I asked, the only solution I could come up with.

“No, pretty sure I can see.” He replied, a look of utter confusion on his face.

“You positive? How many fingers am I holding up?” I continued to interrogate, waving my paint splattered hand in front of his face.

“I don’t know you’re moving your hand too fast.”

“Well, if you can’t see my fingers, you most definitely have a sight problem,” I concluded, taking his words as an excuse. “What is it? Short sighted, long sighted? Had a great uncle who was long sighted, spent hours a day trying to read the newspaper without his glasses on, poor old man didn’t realise he was holding it upside down.”  I continued to rant, aimlessly staring at the guy’s hair. Wow. He had nice hair. The type of hair a bald man would sell his soul for. If I was stuck on a desert island, and was allowed only one thing to take, it would be his hair -that’s how nice it is. The thick, luscious, raven black locks were just calling out to me, tempting me to run my fingers through it.

“No, I’m pretty sure my sight is fine.” He spoke, wearily eyeing my hand that was slowly reaching out to him.

“One touch, just one touch is all I need.” I practically drooled, my fingers inching closer to his beautiful hair every second. That is, until he took a step back, staring with wide eyes at my ever longing hand.

“What are you doing?” He asked, astonished.

“No. Don’t move. Come back. Nice hair,” Was all that came out of my mouth as my feet uncontrollably shuffled towards him. Almost there, Bambi, almost there – just one final stretch.

“Bambi, you really need to get over that hair fetish of yours.” Rhos spoke calmly, coming up beside me, still not over the whole thing with Antonius, as she glared at him as he made his way over to the door. Most probably to go and clean up in the bathroom - that shade of orange really didn’t go well with his skin tone.

“B-but, but nice hair!” I wailed as she batted my arm away from the guy’s face – I really should introduce myself. Maybe then he’d let me touch his hair.

“No buts, people get freaked out when you start molesting their heads, you creeper,” She firmly stated, “Go sit in the corner and stroke your own hair, just wash all the paint out first.” She continued, pointing to the corner of the room where all the old, unwanted paint palettes and brushes sat on a broken desk.

“Pfft, I’ll stop stroking people’s hair when you stop crushing on Onyx.” I retorted, a grin lighting my features as I thought of her school girl admiration for my brother.

“Dude, that was when we were eight, I’m so over it.” She muttered back at me, a slight blush working its way up her cheeks.

“Why’d you blush then, huh? Telling little fibs, Rhossi-girl?”

“No, of course not, I mean, why would I have a crush on your brother? He’s a jerk. Pfft, of course not.” Rhos rambled on, digging the hole a little deeper as her cheeks turned a lovely shade similar to that of tomatoes.

“Don’t worry, Rhos, you secret is safe with me.” I promised as I pinched her cheeks, only getting my hand slapped away and a glare in return. “I’m not too sure about Mr Baboon over there though; we may have to silence him.” My voice became serious as my eyes wandered back to him, a smirk on my face. The next thing I knew, Rhos flew past me and grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to her level as she glared into his eyes.