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|WENDY JO'S WACKY WEDNESDAY (1588 Word Count) (standard:humor, 1582 words)|
|Author: Rosie Jay||Added: Oct 02 2006||Views/Reads: 1861/1103||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Wendy Jo gives one hilarious account about what happened to her the day she pretended to be who she wasn't. Funny Stuff.|
WENDY JO’S WACKY WEDNESDAY By Rosie Jay My name is Wendy Jo Baker, and even though I'm the tallest ninth-grader at Clemson High, I'm just a regular kid with regular folks and a regular mutt named Charlie. The only thing is, I got myself into a “real doozy of a fix,” my Aunt Minerva calls it, and she says there was nothing "regular kid" about it. Oh, Aunt Minerva lives in our upstairs flat. She also owns the beauty shop on the corner of Maple and Third. On that awful Wednesday, there was an afternoon teachers' meeting, so school let out about noon. I headed to the shop and Aunt Minerva was just closing up, surprised to see me. "Why, Wendy Jo," she said, "I'm just on my way to a city council meeting to discuss the new parking meter problem.” I wasn't sur¬prised. Aunt Minerva's customers had been getting mighty cranky about those meters! "But say," she went on, "since you're here, how about staying to take some appoint¬ment calls? I should be back no later than two-thirty." For a while I'd been helping Aunt Minerva after school, just cleaning up and answering the phone. "Sure enough," I replied. What could go wrong? Well, sure, nothing at first. I locked the door, ate my lunch, and took two appointment calls and one cancellation. But after that there was nothing else to do, so I started flipping through some beauty magazines stashed in the corner. I think that's when I got this dumb idea. Like, I'm in a beauty shop, right? Why not jazz myself up? So, with a ton of hairpins and two flowered combs, I piled my hair on top my head in this fancy do. Wow! I definitely looked older—like, hey, eighteen maybe? Then I got excited, going even further. I took some makeup from the cosmetic counter and sloshed on some of that. Right then I should have stopped—but I didn't. I put on Aunt Minerva's pink smock. Yep, I looked real...what’s that word?...oh yeah, bona fide! It was two o'clock when the knock at the door came. Yikes, I had to look twice! It was that Beatrice Pennywell, of all people, the daughter of our local bank presi¬dent. Well, believe me, everybody in this town knows who the Pen¬nywells are, including me. I knew that Beatrice was really shy, for instance, and kind of plain looking. I wasn't sure I believed the part about her never having a boyfriend though. She was almost thirty, for pete's sake! “Please, open up,” she begged, looking as anxious as Charlie when he needs to go out. “Uh...the shop will be open around two-thirty,” I answered real polite-like. But I wondered. What was Malcolm Pennywell’s daughter doing at Aunt Minerva’s beauty shop anyway? What happened to Francois, her fancy hairdresser way uptown? But Beatrice wouldn't budge, like she was glued to the sidewalk. Then I actually did it. I opened the door, just a tad. Boy, it was like a blast of wind! Beatrice scrunched herself through, yakking a mile a minute. "Ooh, silly me. I should have called, but I do hope you can help me. Francois is out of town!” I was speechless. "I want to be a blonde!" she declared, "and I see this place all the time from across the street.” She stopped, right then, grinning like she had this big secret. “There’s a dinner party tonight. I want to surprise EVERYONE!” Click here to read the rest of this story (129 more lines)
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