Unfair Advantage

“It’s not fair,” a hairstylist with short blue hair said. “Of course the judges would be amazed by anything she does.   She’s six and has an adorable lisp.”

“Is she really old enough to be in the competition? It doesn’t make any sense,” another said. This one had her magenta hair in two curly pigtails.

“I think her hair model is what’s unfair,” a third said. He had no hair at all.

The blue haired hair stylist frowned. “Who’s her model?”

“You haven’t seen?” The bald hairstylist asked. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about.”

“You mean it’s crazier than the fact that she’s six?” the pigtailed hairstylist asked. “This I’ve got to see.”

“Yes, you do. I’ve never seen anything like it. At this point it’s a battle for second place,” the bald hairstylist said.   “It’s not fair. Go look and come back. I’ll wait here.”

The two hairstylists tried to make their way through the crowd to the other side of the large hall. They had to dodge fast moving people carrying their scissors in an acceptably safe manner. They had to wait in order to avoid photobombing numerous photos. They had to smile and nod as people complimented their own hairstyles.   And hand out business cards, of course.

After handing out a third round of cards, they were only halfway across the hall.   There were so many people between them and their destination. “This had better be worth it,” the blue haired stylist said. “We could be meditating or sharpening our scissors or something.”

“Just think of how many business cards we’ve handed out so far. You can’t hand out too many business cards,” her friend said.

“Of course you can. They do cost money, you know. If you’re handing them out to fish or hairless cats or bald people, you’re totally wasting your time.”

The hairstylist with pigtails rolled her eyes. “Who would hand a business card for hairstyling to someone without hair? I guess maybe you would if they wanted one for a friend or relative with hair, but they’d have to ask.”

The blue haired stylist pointed to her friend. “Aha! Then you admit I’m right. Point to me.”

“Who cares?”

“You’re just saying that because I’m thirty points ahead.”

“Why are you even keeping track? Oh, look. I can see a bit of a path opening up.”

The blue haired stylist turned to look. “I see. They’re clearing a space for the man in the wheelchair. Let’s follow behind him. We’ll never get through the crowd otherwise.”

The two hairstylists hurried to get to the front of the crowd rushing in to walk behind the wheelchair. They both managed to get near the front of the group. They’d had to kind of squeeze their way in and ignore the grumbling.

“It’s not like there’s really an official line here,” the blue haired stylist said.

“Besides, we just want to look and leave. They’ll get their turn soon enough,” her friend said.

They followed behind the wheelchair to the little girl’s station. Her hair model was already there, standing in front of the chair. “She has a unicorn?” The pigtailed stylist asked. “How is that even possible?”

Just then, the unicorn leaned over and touched its horn to the forehead of the man in the wheelchair. There was a flash of light and the man stood up. “I feel no pain,” the man said. He began to sob. “I can walk. I can walk.”

“Don’t let it touch you,” the blue haired stylist whispered. “It might heal your hair to the correct color or something.”

“Do you think it can cure headaches?” her friend whispered back. “It might be worth it.”

“Whose side are you on anyways?” the blue haired stylist said. She grabbed her friend by the elbow and managed to push their way through the crowd. They finally made their way back to their stations.

The bald stylist was there waiting.   “So, did you see?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s totally not fair,” the blue haired stylist said.

“It’s kind of cool though,” the pigtailed stylist said.   “I mean, it’s a real unicorn.”   The other two glared at her. “It is unfair though,” she said. “I’d totally give them first place no matter what the hair looked like.”

Her friend sighed. “Sometimes I wonder about you.”