The Hair-Do…

“I’m running late this morning cause I had to do my hair,” Charlie told me as Maggie and I stood at the front door this Sunday morning.

Maggie was joyously barking her fool head off and I was having trouble hearing what Charlie was saying.

“It looks really, really good,” I replied honestly over Maggie’s din.

“I got you a monstrous diet Coke as requested,” Charlie told me.

“Thank you dear sir,” I replied to Charlie, anxious to take a drink.

Just then, a very big gust of wind sent Charlie’s hair wildly flying. I couldn’t help it and got to laughing. I am not going to write what spewed forth from Charlie’s mouth. God be damned this Sunday morning. Even copious amounts of hairspray couldn’t stop this onslaught. Charlie walked back to his car dejected and trying to get his hair back in place. I heard him cuss one more time as he got in his car.  “Fiddlesticks!”