After far too many days of enforced and boring seclusion, Irene was desperate for entertainment. In a moment of weakness and low-expectations, she decided it would be terrific fun to hide the family cat in a place where no one expected the cat to be, and then wait for things to play out.
Then Irene remembered that there was no one else in the house, so she might be waiting a while.
Then she also remembered that they didn’t have a family cat, further complicating matters.
What precisely, pondered pensive Irene, did she have strapped to the back of her head?
To be continued…
And by “continued”, I mean “continued in the comments”, as it would be really swell if some of you would jump in and proffer a gloriously gonzo suggestion as to what, pray tell, is in that bun. To stir the pot, the most creative answers will be featured in an upcoming Corona Chronology post that may or may not ever be written. Cheers!
Categories: Humor
Bonnywood Manor 
Irene drummed her fingers on the table as she considered what to do next. Gingerly, she felt around back there. It seemed that her hair had merged with a saguaro cactus.
The humidity had been really bad for the last few days but my, this was ridiculous. She tried running her fingers through it but realized that this exercise was much too loud and besides, she might never find her fingers again. Then, a solution dawned on her! She had the prefect hiding place for the cat!
Moral of the story: remember that in love, as in life, if you suffer from loud, prickly hair, there’s always a cat.
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What a lovely continuation, complete with a nod to nature and a moral at the close. And for the next installment in our serial, we can focus on the wispy end of a cattail that seems to be descending from the hairline…
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Of not a cat, could it be a skunk?
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It could be anything you want it to be. Life is beautiful that way… 😉
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Irene, in her younger half-braided days, had always had the idea she would some day take that final step towards crazy-cat-ladyness.
The fact that she and her pet cat were now inseparable was fantastic. The fact Soft Kitty was a clingy cat worried her not a jot. Soft Kitty being a bit of a head-case merely brought out her crazy-cat-lady maternal instincts. The fact Soft Kitty was a LaPerm was stunningly serendipitous. (She might look chic, but irene could feel one of her migraines coming on.)
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In a sudden development, most likely influenced by Irene’s now-unnatural center of balance, she tumbled down the stairs into a dark and musty basement. Luckly, Soft Kitty LaPerm managed to keep both of them from concussion because, well, she was soft. She was now trapped ‘neath the noggin of her mistress, but still soft…
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Irene knew no-one would guess where she was keeping her toilet paper.
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In an exciting photo-finish, Claudette pulls ahead in the last second to claim victory!
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Yay, i won, i win, i win. Heck, what did i win? 🤣
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Um, I’ll have to get back to you on that… 😉
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I’m afraid I can’t top the toilet paper answer.
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And most reasonable people would not want to touch the TP either, not knowing where it had been…
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Aw, Claudette got there first…dang! I was thinking of the TP hoarders too…
Imagine her dismay when she was caught with only an empty roll in the loo and the thought of having to get into her hair stash😱
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Hehe, could be a little tricky – but then again – if you can’t let your hair down in the loo, where can you?
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Based on my own experiences (and this is probably just me), I would somehow manage to seriously injure myself in said loo instead of calmly retrieving a selection from the stash. Such is my life…
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Oh, me too! I’m always finding new and creative ways to injure myself🤪
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Descended from an ancient race of female aliens who had come to Earth in search of men, Irene had adopted the traditional big hair camouflage (a la their original queen Nefertiti) to hide her massive brain.
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This is soooooo good –
BUT, if she has such a big brain why the heck does she want a man!!! (Yes, I know there is some sort of physical thing that perhaps requires men, but speaking from widowhood experience – when you don’t have it you don’t miss it).
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Speculation has it that this alien race practices strange rituals. Have you ever wondered why the fat trailer park guys from Tennessee are always gettin’ probed? Just sayin’ cheers
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No i haven’t actually, but i will take your word about who gets probed routinely. 🤣😂😜😁
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First, kudos to wd for working in the Egyptian reference. I was hoping someone would use the dramatic eyeliner as a story trigger…
Second, I can attest that the Big-Hair Camouflage would work splendidly here in Texas, as most of the citizens wouldn’t think twice about a ginormous bouffant walking the streets. Then again, most of those citizens don’t do much thinking to begin with. (But they might raise an eyebrow about the probing, although perhaps not, if they happen to be lonely on a Saturday night.)
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Probing — a southern American tradition since 1947.
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Pieces of dead husbands… and by pieces…I mean pieces they were probably fond of when they were alive. I’ve heard they make nice “fillers” for hair pieces.
Bwahahahaha!
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I think I might need to go with you the next time you visit the hair salon, as you apparently go to a very creative establishment… 😉
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I have been to a hairdresser. I just usually grow my hair down to my waist, whack it off and start over.
“POS” never went to the barber. I was his hair cutter for more than thirty years until I put the scissors down and said “I’m never cutting your hair again.” (I could only take so much abuse.)
Now he has a gnarly, grey pony-tail down his back. LOLOL
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It’s the thing from Alien. It’s hibernating and has sported its winter ‘coat’. Irene best watch where she puts her fingers…
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Well, as we learned in that movie, the best way to save yourself from the alien is to strip down to your panties for no apparent reason in the last few minutes of the film…
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That hairdo is just going to get bigger because that’s where the sourdough bread is rising.
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Oh, I like that answer, and not just because food is involved… 😉
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I’m voting for the toilet paper, though WD makes a very logical argument as well. Could it, perhaps, be both?
After all, it’s a big enough bun.
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Sure, there’s plenty of room at the Bonnywood Inn. Come one, come all. Just be sure to tip your server…
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Nice hair btw.
And great pieces you got here
i am in looovee
leave alone the audience indulgence.
i learnt something
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I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to make a comment…
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You welcome
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The tags
well chosen
and chignon, well coifed,
all things equal, most anything
could be detained there (contained?)
trouble is, all things are seldom equal
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Well, now. A tasty little treat here at the end of the comment run. Fine words, wisely chose. Seldom, indeed… 😉
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