Short Story # 18

Tabitha Tangle

By John Moore

Tabitha Tangle was five years old, and about to go to big school for the first time. Like many girls of her age, she had been born with not very much hair, but now had quite a lot. Tabitha’s hair was blond - and very pretty it could have been too…could have been I say, but unfortunately wasn’t. Can you guess why? Have a guess….No, a cat wasn’t sick on her head – that was somebody else. I’ll tell you why. Because Tabitha Tangle refused…I mean absolutely REFUSED to brush her hair. When anybody suggested it, she put her foot down and stamped her feet in such an alarming manner that even the carpet threatened to leave home.

“ NO Mummy…I will not brush my hair…No Daddy, go away…NO NO NO. Shan’t and I won’t because I don’t want to so there. Aaaaaah”

“But why not Tabitha?” they both asked. “ You can’t go to school looking like that. People will stare at you and say ‘Poor girl, she must have horrid parents,’ and then Daddy and I will get reported to the police and they’ll come around and take Daddy to prison.”

“ I don’t care” cried Tabitha. “ I don’t like that smelly old hairbrush, it hurts.”

“ I’ll be really gentle” said her mother. “ Look, we’ll start at the bottom and work our way up. I’ll be very careful not to pull your hair, and then when it’s done, you’ll have lovely straight hair – just like a Princess.”

“ I don’t want to look like a Princess. They’re horrible and silly.” She cried.

Every day this went on, and every day her hair became more and more knotted. Something had to be done.

Mr and Mrs Tangle tried everything they could think of. New brushes with soft bristles, specially imported from Morrocco. Brushes specially designed by scientists, with bristles so thin you couldn’t even see them. They tried washing her hair with gentle conditioners – designed to assist in the untangling of unruly hair – they even tried creeping into her room at night and brushing it while she was asleep, but of course -Tabitha woke up and bit her father on the arm, accusing him of trying to steal her toys. Nothing worked, and her golden hair got longer and more tangled by the day.

It was a shame really, because in every other respect, Tabitha was a lovely little girl. She wore shiny red shoes and socks with a picture of a dog on them and a lovely white dress, done up with a bow. It was only when your happy gaze reached her head that things began to go wrong, and people became alarmed.

- A long time ago, some ladies had a hairstyle called a beehive. It was only called a beehive because it looked a bit like one - it wasn’t really one though. Unfortunately, there really was one in Tabitha’s hair. Soon, conditions were such that trees began to grow. Not just little saplings either, but great big trees, with things living in them. Birds, snakes, bats…all manner of creepy crawlies…in fact, Tabitha’s hair soon became a jungle. There were lions and tigers, giraffes, crocodiles, even a rhinoceros. They were very loud, and it wasn’t long before it came to the notice of the education authorities – who are not slow in these matters.

A letter was delivered to Mr and Mrs Tangle from the Headmistress of The Tiny Town School- Miss Tipsy.

“ It is with deepest regret that I must ask you not to send Tabitha to school again until her hair has been cleared of all dangerous species. We must be fair to the other parents, who I am quite sure, would not want their children exposed to the risk of being gobbled up so early in the term. Quite apart from anything else, the stench from the animal dung is worse than a hundred pooey nappies. We all look forward to seeing Tabitha back here again, when she no longer presents such a grave health and safety risk to her classmates. Yours most Tipsily, Miss Sincere. XX

Well that was it. Tabitha Tangle’s hair had brought shame and disgrace onto the family. The good reputation that they had fought so hard to regain after the last incident was again in tatters. And so it was decided – there was nothing else for it. Tabitha must have a haircut.

Of course, this wasn’t going to be easy. News of her extraordinary follicular menagerie had spread, and hairdressers – not known for their courage in fighting dangerous animals at the best of times – were suddenly all booked up for the next hundred years. Of course really, they were all just scaredycats, and a disgrace to the personal grooming industry. Even Floppy McBarnet, the celebrity hairdresser, who was married to Babs McBubs the lady wrestler hid in his toilet when Tabitha’s daddy came to see him.

Of course, Tabitha didn’t mind. She sat at home all day, under her hair, eating bananas and coconuts, and learning to talk to the animals who’d made their home on her head. Occasionally, they would all sing a song together – although it wasn’t the kind of song you’d want to hear twice…it was very growly and screechy and even quite grunty in places. And the smell was awful.

Just in the nick of time, the Tiny Town Chronicle got wind of the story, and as there wasn’t much else happening that week, they decided to run the story on the front page, along with an expose of hairdressers. They printed a lovely picture of Tabitha, making a naughty face beneath all her horrendous hair, and launched a competition – in association with Tiny Town Travel, offering a lovely day out at the seaside, for anybody brave enough – or silly enough, to cut her hair.

Well as everyone knows, a day out at the seaside is worth fighting lions and tigers for, and the competition proved very very popular….oh hang on a minute…I’m wrong. Very unpopular. Apparently, fighting lions and tigers isn’t such a good idea after all. New government evidence suggests that it’s dangerous. There were no applicants, which was rather disappointing.

What was even sadder – according to some people – although not Tabitha herself, was that her education and something called social integration were suffering. Apparently, the other girls and boys at school could already count to five and spell ‘it’ and ‘at’. All she could do was make funny noises that only animals could understand, and sweep cobwebs off ceilings without climbing a ladder.

Well eventually, all good things must come to an end – don’t ask me why. Busybodies make it their business to bring things into line with everything else – especially when a little girl’s hair becomes a hazard to passing aircraft or a threat to national security. Fearing spies from abroad might try to steal it and make a cushion, words were had at the very highest level.

A committee was set up, involving all the best chatterboxes in Tiny Town, to decide what should be done. Unfortunately, they were all a bit silly, and had no idea about much of anything. They scratched their heads and made funny faces, and some even funnier noises - which we won’t mention, and only succeeded in creating a lot of hot air. It all seemed hopeless.

However, just as they were about to pack up and leave the Tea-rooms, a tiny voice piped up. Everybody looked about to see who was speaking, but all they could see was a grey mouse on the table. He was quite a strange looking mouse - it has to be said; wearing a pair of shorts and carrying a satchel. He waited until he had everybody’s attention, then continued.

“ My name is Cheeky Mouse…do you know why? Because I’m a mouse and I’m cheeky…do you see? Heeheeheeeheee” he laughed. “ Now if somebody will hurry up and fetch me a glass of gingerbeer and a slice of cake, I’ll tell you old stinkers what to do…come on, chop chop, hurry up.”

Well as you can see, he certainly was a cheeky mouse; and before you get up on your hind legs and say that mice can’t speak, remember where we are, and what we’re discussing – A little girl who’s hair was so tangled that it had turned into a jungle so large, that you could see it from space….and for that matter, just remember that you haven’t got any hind legs either. Strange situations call for strange solutions – remember that!

Once I….I mean Cheeky Mouse had eaten some of his cake and brushed the crumbs from his whiskers, and been to the toilet behind a tea cup, he began to speak in his cheeky little voice.

“All this nonsense about a haircut ( which he said in a very screwed-up face way) will never work. You need to swap her hair for something.”

“ That’s a wonderful idea Cheeky Mouse” said all the clever people. Then they scratched their heads a bit more and looked puzzled again.

“ What can we swap?” they asked.

“ Some bubble bath and a box of crayons of course…and a pink ribbon if she’s a bit girly.”

The busybodies immediately saw what a splendid idea this was, and began to congratulate themselves for having it.

And so it was, that on a sunny old day in Tiny Town, Tabitha Tangle sat in the barber’s chair, with the army and ‘airforce on standby, all police leave cancelled, and the fire brigade in attendance. The Tiny Town Choir began a special song, which was so beautiful, that all the dangerous animals and insects ran away, only biting a few people just to be sociable. A team of demolition experts and landscape gardeners, managed to cut Tabitha’s hair, so it was not too long and not too short, and not too tangly and easy to brush. When it was done, the mayor of Tiny Town held up a mirror so that Tabitha could see her new hair. Even she had to admit that it looked quite nice. “ I suppose.”

When she smiled, the crowds cheered and the band played, and the Tiny Town Choir sang a lovely song and everybody danced on the village green. Cheeky Mouse was presented with a medal for intelligence, and Mr and Mrs Tangle were given a golden brush with which to brush their daughter’s hair. Everybody was very happy indeed…except the hairdressers, who had been sent to prison.

Tabitha Tangle returned to school, and made up for lost time – in no time at all, and Miss Tipsy held a cheese and wine evening for the parents, and everything got back to normal in Tiny Town – for a while.