BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

Grassburr Fever has hit town. You would think we could be civil to each other during football season, uniting against our common enemy, Mingus.

But no. It's late October, a perilous time for anybody who's already dangling by the slender thread of reason. The Guardians of Decency are picketing Wal-Mart for carrying thong panties. Cut-throat moms are staging cookie fights in the halls of Axel Elementary. And Brother Dickey Webb is leading a holy crusade to substitute a vegetable festival for my favorite holiday.

Homecoming was bad enough. Destinee was mortified when Colt got her a scrawny pre-teen mum. Tight wad, just like his father. And she had spent a year's worth of allowance on French nails and a body wax.

Speaking of dressing up, everybody's talking about Cabbage Fest, formerly known as the Rhinestones and Whips Masquerade Ball. "Halloween is the devil's workshop," Brother Dickey declared. "Not to be confused with Santa's workshop--not a place where elves make masks and such." Brother Dickey prevailed, trading a homage to the lowly vegetable for a glitzy candy corn gala.

It's a shame because Ronny and Donny Miller, Axel's only sixty year old twin brothers, had their hearts set on going as Rasputin and Trotsky. When they showed up at the beauty shop last week in costume, Tiny Mae told Ronny he looked like "that cough drop guy," and said Donny looked just like he always does. But Tiny Mae never finished high school, so what do you expect?

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, since the elementary school mothers get in such a tizzy over the Halloween parties. Last year there was nearly a riot when the jack-o-lantern cookies for kindergarten were bigger than the ones for second grade. And I'll never forget the sight of Crystal Brown crying till mascara ran down her cheeks after somebody sat on her daughter Britnee's halo.

Cabbage Fest just sounds so boring. Why can't we get drunk like they do in Fredericksburg? Nobody around here even knows how to make sauerkraut--boiled cabbage is it--but Brother Dickey considered the idea of Pumpkin Fest too dangerous because of the pumpkin's association with Devil's Day.

Axel moderates thought the holiday could be salvaged, de-devilized by forbidding occult costumes like fairies, witches and ghosts. Kids could dress as axe murderers or turtles. But Dickey's disciples wouldn't hear of it.

Maybe baby boomers are getting what we deserve. As my father used to say, "If life was supposed to be fun, we would have been born wearing pointy hats." Or, to paraphrase Bob Dole, "This is life. It's not supposed to be fun."

If only Bob Dole had thought of his catchy anti-drug maxim thirty years ago, saving boomers from lives of debauchery, from being sitting ducks for the forces of evil.

But now it's too late for our generation. Our brains are already rotted. Our character is unredeemably crumby.

Maybe there is hope for the Youth of Today. A message from the Dolster: Kids, surf the web and see what that awesome dude Bob Dole has to say about drugs and rock music and stuff.

Don't forget to mark your calendars for the Dixie Decency Fair! Pistol-packing topics include: How to know if you're worshipping the devil without realizing it.

The Filth which masquerades as books.

Puberty Film or Porno?

The Knights of Pythagoras--Satanic cult?

See you there!

In the meantime--Happy Cabbage Day! Lasso Mingus! And, most importantly,

just don't do it!