BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

The Bunch family has been blessed with a bouncing bundle of joy. No, it's not a pit bull--though it does weigh eighty pounds. Guess again. IT'S A BOY! A blond-headed, blue eyed voodoo child full of mischief, Jasper Fontaine.

Stormy and Destinee--despite their frequent brushes with the law--in no way prepared me for a son. Stinky shoes, chickens in the bathroom, setting the curtains on fire--with girls, these things are harmless fun. But you take a boy and set him loose in a house full of valuable souvenir plates from every state except Alaska and you're asking for trouble.

Don't get me wrong, bringing Jasper into our home was the most fulfilling act of my life. Every day I thank my lucky stars his mother Loraine got involved with that cult and ran off. It's just that Jasper, at age eleven, is already kind of set in his ways. And his ways are a tad odd.

Society tolerates a lot. You can school your kids at home and teach them the earth is five hundred years old. You can subject them to faith healers, colon irrigation, and rebirthing. You can even sign them up for modeling school.

You can pretty much do what you want to with them. But Loraine Fontaine went too far--dragging Jasper off to New Mexico to prepare him for his role as Savior of the Universe, Leader of the Pack, Avatar, and Head Honcho of the Heavens to Betsy Cult. The boy's special status was revealed to Loraine in the entrails of a run-over frog she spied while taking her morning constitutional.

It's bad enough she told everyone he was a reincarnated dog. I'll never forget the day I ran into her at a conference on animal ESP. Loraine was wearing a pink terry cloth turban and elf shoes. She carried a framed photo of a scraggly black poodle.

"He was just like a son to me," she said, recalling the dog she had for twelve years before her son was born. "I always hoped that someday Jasper would become a real little boy like that puppet Pinocchio."

She wiped away a tear. "Nine months to the day after Jasper got hit by the garbage truck, I gave birth to Jasper, Jr. The minute I laid eyes on him, I knew who it was. Even his fur--I mean hair--looked the same. And there was no doubt about their personality."

Jasper, Jr. has been studied by experts at the Institute for Psychic Research in San Diego. At the age of five he began recounting traumatic past life experiences such as following a badger down a deep hole, chasing cars, and almost drowning in the septic tank. I get the willies just thinking about it.

Wittgenstein would think we're just a bunch of stupid idiots around here but practically everybody in Axel has accepted the fact Jasper used to be a dog. Why else would he prefer canned dog food to the kids' meals at Belinda's Burger Barn? Why else would he be so flea-prone?

The main problem, however, isn't that he thinks he's a dog. It's the opposite--he thinks he's god. Always ordering everybody around. Making demands. Issuing ultimatums. "Let's eat. Throw the ball. Scratch my belly."

The counselor said he just needs a role model with healthy boundaries. My husband Sonny's working on it but he keeps getting tangled in the hot wire. The midnight feedings and water balloon fights at bath time are almost too much for a man his age. But who knows? Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.