BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

All the local prognosticators are making predictions for the upcoming year. The sheriff's department will be taken over by a weird android from outer space posing as a paranoid religious fanatic. A race of mole men will be discovered living under Sundance Square. A Colleyville woman will give birth to a full-grown possum.

But everybody in Axel is worried about the Y2K deal. Experts tell us there will be total anarchy. Cosmetologists operating without a license. Plagues of locusts, UFOs, and God on tv. We've got one year until it hits the fan. Should we eat, drink and be merry? Or hunker down in a bunker with a two year supply of peanut butter? Naturally, I would prefer the former but I asked around, just to be on the safe side.

"Doomsday will be here Jan. 1, 2000, when the computers go haywire," said Ray Swuft, a guy who claims to have seen the Headless Horseman of the Apocalypse. "All the planets are going to line up and throw gravity out of whack. The federal government will take away our regular guns and shoot us with ray guns. They'll implant those microchips in our foreheads. And space guys will try to breed with us. I seen it on the Internet."

I'm not computer literate like Ray, and I hoped I wouldn't have to give up my plan to party like it's 1999. As long as the world is going to end, I figured, why not eat undercooked meat, drink out of the dog bowl and sleep around? I could finally get that 18 wheeler tattooed on my stomach and prank call the IRS. But first I decided to visit Dr. Emily Zinfrang, who teaches word processing at Goat Head Junior College.

''What will the Y2K Bug mean for people like me?" I said.

"You'll over-sleep, the coffeepot won't work, and you'll be in a bad mood all day," said Zinfrang, adjusting her glasses. "Forget about using the curling iron, blow dryer, or hot rollers. And you might as well resign yourself to carrying around all that lumpy cellulite."

"That sounds terrible," I said.

"People will be a lot uglier," warned Zinfrang. "Nobody will want to spend quality time together. The next stage will be war in the streets."

Dr. Zinfrang's predictions were alarming. Society could fall apart--just from looking dowdy? But it had happened before in other countries. In a panic, I called the Famous Model and Charm School in Dallas and spoke with headmistress Juanella d'Chic.

"Picture this. A bleak world without nail dryers, electronic air fresheners, or the clapper," said d'Chic, in the middle of shrink-wrapping an aspiring model. "After the crash, spiral perms, rocket hair, and even beehives will be a thing of the past. Every day will be a bad hair day."

"You mean like when I had the flu and couldn't get out of bed for a whole week, not even to take a shower? And the flies hovered above my face all day?" I said. "It was awful. What will women do?"

"They'll resort to the primitive methods employed by our ancestors--such as spitting on their hair to create pathetic styles that couldn't even attract some old guy on Viagra," said d'Chic.

"I'm a beautician," I said. "It's my sworn duty to do something. But what?"

"Forget about hair and stock up on Lycra," said d'Chic. "There are only 365 shopping days until Armageddon. Buy a few hundred cat-suits, tube tops and control briefs. Pick up some jeans that stretch. The world will thank you for it."

The news was bleaker than I had ever imagined. Humans reduced to an animal existence without any devices to make themselves look decent. Low tech life would be a drag. How could I even think about partying, with the survival of mankind at stake? I began to wrack my mind for ideas to head off the disaster that loomed ahead.

As a card-carrying member of Mensa, it was up to me to put my gigantic brain power to work for the good of civilization. I am not just a regular beautician--I am practically a genius. I made the following list.

Things To Invent in 1999:

gas-powered styling brush

battery-powered liposuction machine

big screen tv that runs off car battery

big pink thingy that vibrates your whole body and runs off a car battery

corn popper, can opener, and bug zapper that run off car batteries

one calorie beer

It's been several years since I invented anything, the last innovation being a type of reversible shoe which, unfortunately, never worked out. I was not deterred, however. Once I put my tremendous thinking organ to work, once the various neurons, electrons, etc. start firing, there is no stopping me.

I went to the supermarket to pick up a few things--mainly cat food, as the cats were meowing and making it difficult for me to employ my entire brain. I was $1.10 short and had to put back the new Cosmopolitan. I made my second list as I put away the groceries.

Things to Stockpile in 1999:

a year's supply of freeze-dried pork rinds for every man, woman, and child in America

chocolate-covered cherries

a two-year supply of pore strips

white bread

chips and hot sauce

wind-up cymbal playing monkeys

tapes of Melrose Place

stuff that runs off batteries

batteries

gum

fake Oakleys

macaroni and cheese

chattering teeth

silk teddy from Victoria's Secret

blue food coloring

toilet paper

Tic-tacs

Once I made my list, I felt a lot better. I put on my disco outfit, just like the one the girl who danced with John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever. Then I headed for the new year's eve bash at Goat Head Mall. Sure, there's a lot of hard work ahead if I am going to save the world. But if we can't party, what's the point?