Flash Fiction! “Hair Scare!”

More Flash Fiction!! What a mystery this one is!

 

Brivisia Donogiatti  walked into the salon with a swift wind at her back. This woman was confidence. The world’s current top supermodel, Brivisia stood a few inches over six feet tall with flowing auburn hair, the waves reaching down to the blades of her shoulders.

I approached her quickly. Having dealt with Ms. Donogiatti in the past, I knew she would run right over me if I didn’t greet her with breathy importance. “Signora, thank you for coming today. I have something to show you… and only you.”

“Show me,” spat Brivisia, as she raised her fist towards the ceiling. I never understood the hand motions of Italians.

Leading her towards the machine in the far corner of my salon, I began my explanation. “I graduated from MIT with one thing on my brain— I wanted to change the world for women’s haircare through the advanced use of computers. This machine does everything.”

The model fingered the top of the box part of my machine with a gaze I’d only seen before in jewelry stores. A computer was humming next to the box, which, when activated, slid over the top 3/4 of the human using it.

“Let me experience it. Right away.”

“Signora, the machine is still in testing phase. I would hate to put a person of your —.”

“Now!”

“Fine. Sit,” I said. “This box will slide down. The computer will scan your face, bone structure, shape of your skull. The technology references this information against all current and up-trending hairstyles to create the perfect one, individualized for you. Through the use of lasers, the machine cuts, highlights and styles— all complete within 5 minutes.”

“Do it.”

I slid the box down over the top portion of Brivisia’s perfect frame. Breathing deep, i punched the appropriate passwords into the computer. The machine began to hum. My view shifted to Brivisia’s bony hands, gripping the armrests like a vise. The computer monitor blinked. It was done.

Raising the box, I held a mirror up to Ms. Donogiatti’s face. She inhaled sharply. “It’s amazing… perfect… astounding… the finest hairstyle I’ve ever had…” Brivisia trailed off, muttering compliments about the machine. Finally, her eyes darted to mine. “This makes everything different. Every salon will want one. This machine is worth billions!”

Quickly, before I even knew what was happening, Brivisia Donogiatti reached for her purse. There was a gun in my face. She growled with fiery eyes as she asked, “Who else knows about this?”

Incredibly, Brivisia’s Italian accent was gone.

 

Did you guess the required parts to the story?

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