Introduction
Unlike my three accounts of Lois and Fran’s in-real-life, hair pulling catfights, this story is a work of fiction – except for the two main characters. Dorothy is Catfight Forum’s own “fgtdorothy” and Carly is the wife of a forum member. She is not the fictional character named “Carly” in the Welcome to Sandbridge stories. The illustrations were created by the amazing talents of Raz. And, special thanks to gmenn for formatting the story and illustrations.
“A Picture Perfect Hair Pulling Match”
Dorothy looked in the mirror as she finished applying her makeup, adding a little more than usual to make her look glamorous for the upcoming photo shoot and to accentuate her hazel eyes. Now for the pi`ece de re’sistance she thought, as she began to remove the jumbo hot curlers from her gorgeous, luxuriant mane of slightly wavy, light-red hair. After taking out all the curlers, she began slowly brushing her waist-length hair. “Is this a head of hair, or what?” she said silently to herself. “I’m sure to beat the other candidate for the hair modeling position.”
Across town, Carly was putting liner around her light-green eyes, to make them stand out. Normally, she didn’t apply so much makeup, but today was special. She was one of two candidates for a hair modeling position and she wanted to look her best. With a sense of pride, she began removing the jumbo hot curlers from her beautiful, slightly wavy, thick, caramel-colored, brown tresses. Using her best brush, she took pleasure in brushing her waist-length hair out to its full extent. Pleased with what she saw in the mirror, she grabbed a head-scarf on her way out the door to make sure her lovely locks didn’t get mussed while going to the photographer’s studio.
Dorothy arrived at the studio confident she was going to be chosen as the model. When she walked in the waiting room, she was surprised to see another woman sitting there. With her thick, caramel-colored, waist-length hair, it was obvious she was there for the same reason as Dorothy.
Carly looked up from her magazine when a redhead walked in. She studied the woman as she made quite a show of removing her head scarf, revealing her luxuriant, light-red, waist-length locks. Although it was the same length as hers, Carly thought the red mane needed a good trim. “Just look at all those split ends,” she said to herself.
Picking up a magazine, Dorothy sat down and began to examine the competition. The woman’s hair was as long as hers, but it was a mousy-brown color; not a magnificent red. “Look how dry her hair is,” thought Dorothy. “It really needs a deep conditioning.”
Of course, none of the things either woman was thinking about the other’s hair was true. Their lengthy locks had never looked better; thanks to the new shampoo and conditioner they had been testing for the past six months. A major hair products manufacturer was looking for long-haired women, who weren’t professional models, in four age groups – 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s – to promote their new line of shampoo and conditioners for long hair. Dorothy and Carly were the final two candidates for the 40-something hair model position. However, they hadn’t been told beforehand that they would be photographed together. The executive of the hair products company wished to see photos of the two finalist’s side-by-side before she made her selection.
Having glanced at each other’s crowning glory, the two women noticed they were similar physically. Dorothy was an attractive, young-looking, forty-something woman, 5 feet 6 inches tall, 135 lbs., and 34C-26-36. Carly was also an attractive, young-looking, forty-something woman, 5 feet 8 inches tall, 130 lbs., and 36A-26-35.
Dorothy was wearing a sleeveless red blouse with an oval neck and a long, pleated white skirt. Carly was wearing a short sleeve, V-neck blue blouse and long brown skirt. Both women were wearing two-inch heels on their feet to give them a little lift.
Feeling feisty and wanting to test her competition’s mettle, Dorothy decided to intimidate the other woman by showing-off her beautiful, light-red hair. Bringing a long lock forward over her right shoulder, Dorothy let it fall down past her breast. Accepting Dorothy’s challenge, Carly brought a long lock of her pretty, golden-brown hair forward over her left breast. Raising her right eyebrow, Dorothy countered by dividing her hair in half and bringing both halves forward over the breasts so that all of her magnificent mane was on display for Carly to see. Not to be outdone, Carly did the same thing so that Dorothy could see all of her gorgeous tresses. However, as thick as Carly’s hair was, it wasn’t quite as thick as Dorothy’s, a fact the redhead noticed immediately.
Finished with their detailed examination of each other’s long, curled locks, Dorothy tried to engage Carly in a stare-down duel, but Carly would have none of it and returned to reading her magazine. “She’s a wimp,” thought Dorothy.
Just then the photographer entered the waiting room.
“Hi, I’m Al.”
Looking at both women, he said, “Let me introduce you.”
Glancing first at Carly, Al said “Carly, this is Dorothy. Dorothy, this is Carly.”
The two ladies didn’t say a word, but just nodded at each other. Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, Al motioned for the two women to enter the studio. Dorothy strode ahead of Carly and as she passed her by she tossed all of her long tresses behind her for both Carly and Al to see.
“Before we begin shooting,” Al said, “the company exec wants you to look similar so that your overall physical appearance and hair can be compared without the distraction of different outfits. That’s why I asked you your dress and shoe sizes when I last spoke with you about the photography session. You’ll find everything you need in the dressing rooms to your left.”
Dorothy entered the room first, with Carly close behind. There were two changing booths off to one side, with curtains rather than doors and two full-length mirrors on the wall opposite the booths. Dorothy’s and Carly’s names were pinned to the curtains.
Entering their respective changing booths, the two women removed their outfits and put on the clothes and shoes laid out for them on a bench. Emerging at about the same time, they looked each other over before advancing toward the mirrors. They were both wearing blue, V-neck, flowing summer dresses with hems that fell to just below the knees, flesh-colored panty hose, and black, 3-inch pumps.
As Dorothy admired herself in the mirror, she said out loud “You don’t stand a chance competing against me, with that flat chest and butt, and dry, stringy hair. My 34-C boobs, tight ass, and thicker, magnificent red mane will win the day.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Carly replied. “If you’re a 34-C, then I’m a 36-D, and there’s nothing tight about your tired, old, saggy ass. As for your frizzy mop full of split ends, it can’t compare with my luxuriant, caramel-colored tresses.”
To emphasize her last point, Carly bent over at the waist and began vigorously brushing the underside of her long locks. Then, quickly standing upright, she tossed her hair behind her. Her naturally thick, full head of hair seemed to have doubled in size to a massive mane. She gave Dorothy an “I told you so” look.
Not to be outclassed, Dorothy leaned forward and duplicated Carly’s move, brushing the underside of her hair even more vigorously. When she quickly stood up, tossing her locks behind her, her naturally thick, full head of hair appeared to have doubled in volume to a mega mane, even larger than Carly’s. Raising her right eyebrow, she gave Carly an “I’m better than you,” look.
The two prospective models took several steps toward one another until they were a foot apart. Instinctively, they placed their hands on their hips as they eyed each other.
“You can’t seriously believe,” challenged Dorothy, “they’re going to chose you and your dry, stringy, mousy-brown mop over my gorgeous, long, flowing, red locks, do you?”
“The only thing flowing,” retorted Carly, “is the bull flowing from your mouth. Dream on if you think they’re going to pick you and your frizz-bomb full of split ends over my beautiful, Rapunzel-like, golden-brown mane.”
Taking a slender lock of about a dozen strands of Carly’s hair between her thumb and index finger, Dorothy ran it between her fingers, feeling it.
“Yuck! Your hair feels worse than it looks,” commented the redhead. “It’s so dry and brittle; it’ll probably break off in my fingers.”
Gathering a dozen or so of Dorothy’s strands between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, Carly ran them between her fingers.
“Gross! Your hair feels oily. Are you putting lard on it to try and keep down the split ends?” asked Carly.
“You’re not going to get this modeling position, so you might as well leave now,” said Dorothy in an authoritative voice.
“On the contrary, I’m going to be the forty-something model, so you should quit wasting your time and leave,” responded Carly in a confident tone.
“I’m going to be the model,” declared Dorothy. “Not only is your hair ugly, but you’re a tit-less wonder!”
“You’re a fine one to talk, lard butt, and I’m going to be the model,” asserted Carly!
“No, me!”
“Me!”
As they continued arguing, both women unconsciously began to pull on the slender lock of their rival’s hair, increasing the tension on the roots, little by little. Suddenly, Dorothy and Carly’s contretemps was interrupted by a loud knock at the dressing room door.
“It’s time to begin the photo shoot, ladies,” announced Al.
Both women released one another’s tress, gave their manes a few more brush strokes and left the dressing room. Carly took the lead so she could toss her lengthy locks at Dorothy in the same way Dorothy had tossed her tresses at Carly when they first entered the studio.
The photography session was unlike anything Al had experienced. At the first opportunity, Dorothy gave Carly a little push. Waiting for her chance, Carly nudged Dorothy. Back and forth they went, tit for tat. As Al was about to call for a break to go check on the images he’d shot, Dorothy bumped Carly and Carly, totally fed up, bumped her back.
“I believe it’s time for a break, ladies,” Al said. “I’m going to download what I’ve shot to see how the pictures look and whether or not I need to take anymore. Excuse me for about 15 minutes.”
With that, Al disappeared into his combination computer room and dark room (he still did conventional photography, as well as digital). What the two hopeful models didn’t know was the mirror on the wall was 2-way, which allowed Al to keep tabs on the people in his studio. As soon as Al left the room, Carly walked away from Dorothy. Dorothy followed her until she stopped and turned around.
“I think it’s time you left,” Dorothy demanded. “That broom straw of yours can’t compare to my beautiful hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Carly replied. “As for my hair, at least it’s not full of split
ends.”
“Who are you, with that ratty-looking, mousy-brown hair, to criticize mine?”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you about our hair. I came here to become a hair model.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Dorothy as she took a step toward Carly. Placing her hands on her hips, Dorothy stared at her rival.
To the redhead’s astonishment, Carly took a step forward, put her hands on her hips and locked eyes with Dorothy. Their breasts were almost touching. Reaching the subconscious, physiological point of flight or fight, both women made their choice and stood their ground, as their heart rates began to increase causing their chests to start heaving up-and-down.
After about 10 seconds, Dorothy slowly reached over with her right hand and casually gathered about a half dozen strands of golden-brown hair, twirling them around her index finger. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to lose these pathetic excuses for hair.”
With a hard, determined expression on her face, Carly said “Let go of my hair.”
“Have you ever been in a hair pulling match?” asked Dorothy.
“Let go of my hair,” repeated Carly.
“Well, I have and I’ve never lost.”
“There’s a first time for everything. Now, I won’t say this again; let go of my hair or you’ll soon find most of your ugly, red mop on the floor!”
“I’ll bet she’s bluffing,” Dorothy thought to herself. “It’s obvious she’s never been in a catfight. And, if I’m wrong, I’ll still enjoy adding locks of her hair to my collection.”
In fact, Carly had been in a catfight (she called it a “sisterly spat”) with her sister, Judy, who was a year younger than she. They had gotten into a hair pulling match when they were teenagers, which lasted several minutes. It ended when Carly pulled a handful of Judy’s hair out by the roots. As an adult, she’d also had a tussle with her neighbor and former friend, Aly, but that’s another story.
Without further warning, Dorothy yanked really hard.
Carly let out a loud
“Ouch!”Meanwhile, Al was in the midst of downloading the image files when he heard a woman’s voice yell “Ouch!” Getting up to investigate, he went over to the two-way mirror. Given what happened next, he was forever grateful that he did.
Carly looked at Dorothy, standing in front of her with a smirk on her face, her right hand holding six or so strand’s of Carly’s long, caramel-colored hair and her left hand resting casually on her hip. She could feel the anger rising in her body as she said to herself “Who does this redhead think she is? Does she think she can pull out strands of my hair and get away with it? I’ll yank her hair out like I did Judy’s.” Carly’s face began to turn crimson and her light-green eyes began to darken. She had never been so angry, mad, furious, or whatever synonym you can think of.
Dorothy swung the strands of Carly’s hair back and forth, saying “Don’t let the door hit you in your flat ass when you leave.”
Carly erupted in a fit of rage she’d never experienced before. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she said
“You fucking, red-headed bitch, I’m going to tear those split ends out of your head!”Before Dorothy knew what happened, Carly swiftly wrapped strands of red hair around both her index fingers and yanked hard, ripping them out of Dorothy’s head.
It was Dorothy’s turn to yell
“Ouch!”Shocked that she had so misjudged Carly, Dorothy looked at her, as she stood there swinging a half-dozen, long strands of light-red hair back and forth in both hands.
“Double your pleasure, double your fun,” taunted Carly, using the phrase from the old chewing gum ad, while mimicking Dorothy’s earlier smirk.
Dorothy was madder than she’d ever been in her life.
“So, you want to pull hair? Well, you’re going to regret locking-up with me,” screamed Dorothy,
“You’re going to leave with less hair, a lot less you fucking, frizzy-haired bitch!”
“Your ugly red hair is much too thick and needs a good thinning,” replied Carly,
“and I’m going to love doing it. When I’m done with you, your dirty hair will be all over the floor, you nasty slut!"Infuriated, the two good-looking, 40-something ladies went for each other’s crowning glory, determined to come away with more battle trophies than her adversary.
Click! Click! Click! Al was shooting as fast as he could, while trying to follow the action.
For the first 30 seconds or so, Dorothy and Carly pulled hair furiously, tossing their heads and hair every which way. Then, they changed hair pull positions, moving their hands to the back of their opponent’s head and burying their fingers deep in the abundant manes.
Pulling harder and harder, they squeezed their eyes shut and gritted their teeth. Their scalps burned.
“I’m going to enjoy ripping handfuls of your scraggly mop out of your ugly head; you dried -up old cow,” threatened Dorothy.
“I’m going to love tearing that rat’s nest you call hair out by its roots and scattering it all over the floor; you shriveled-up old hag,” responded Carly.
“We’ll see who leaves with less hair, dear!”
“That’ll be you, darling!”
As they continued pulling down on each other’s hair as hard as they could, their heads arched backwards. Dorothy began slowly pulling one clinched hand down through Carly’s long mane, while holding the other hand steady, gripping Carly’s hair. This was a technique she had learned from her previous hair pulling matches. She called it trolling. As she dragged her fist through her opponent’s hair, she pulled strands loose. By the time she got to the ends of her rival’s hair, she’d be grasping a dozen or so strands. Letting them fall, she’d switch hands and repeat the maneuver.
Carly felt isolated tugs at the back of her head and realized strands were being pulled loose. Being a quick learner, she began methodically trolling through Dorothy’s tresses, harvesting an equal amount of red strands.
Concentrating on pulling hair, both women were unaware they were moving very slowly in a tight circle. Minutes passed and they began turning in the opposite direction, still trolling clinched fists through the long lengths of hair dangling down their backs. When they’d get near the ends of their rival’s tresses, they’d pull their hands free and wiggle their fingers, letting the loose strands fall to the floor. Dorothy and Carly’s movements could easily be traced by the crooked circle of mixed red and brown hair accumulating around their feet. As their hair pulling dance continued, they engaged in trash talk between moans, groans, and grunts.
“You mousy-brown bitch!”
“You redheaded slut!”
“I’m going to snatch you bald, you nasty skank!”
“I’m going to pull your tinted, red hair out one by one, until you beg me to stop, you filthy whore!”
Carly’s last remark really struck home. Dorothy was very proud of her natural shade of light-red hair and she deeply resented it when anyone inferred that it came out of a bottle or tube. Furious, Dorothy jerked Carly’s head backward by a fistful of hair while slapping her across the face with her right hand.
Momentarily startled, the brunette felt a stinging sensation as a red hand print began to appear on her left cheek. Rather than causing her to back down, Dorothy’s slap had the opposite effect on Carly and made her just as furious as her adversary. Yanking Dorothy’s head backward by a handful of her hair, Carly slapped her opponent with equal force. Not to be outdone, Dorothy responded with another slap, which was quickly returned by Carly.
Click! Click! Click! Click! Al was beside himself, trying to record the action with his camera while trying to watch it, too.
Using one hand to hold onto each other’s manes in an attempt to control their rival’s head, the two combatants used their free hand to strike one another with short but stinging slaps, whenever an opening presented itself. For several minutes, they continued their hair pulling, slap fest, making the two women madder and madder as their cheeks grew redder and redder. Suddenly, as if by mutual consent, they pushed one another away.
Surveying their antagonist’s tangled and torn tresses, Dorothy and Carly used the brief respite to shake the brown and red strands from their hands before pushing the hair out of their faces and tossing their lengthy locks behind their shoulders.
Carly chuckled. “You should see yourself; your checks are redder than the cheap dye you use on your frizzy hair.”
“You’re a fine one to talk, as if your golden-brown hair doesn’t come out of a bottle! How long have you been coloring your grizzled mop, you old, grey-haired whore?”
“That does it, you fucking, redheaded skank. When I’m through with you, you’ll have to wear a wig for a year!”“Why you fucking, stringy-haired slag, when I’m finished with you, you won’t have enough hair left to wear in a Pixie cut!”Lunging toward one another, their hands flying to their rival’s mane, they reveled in the sensation of plunging their fingers deep in the thick mass of light-red and golden-brown tresses. It felt so good, both women thought, to twist strands of their antagonist’s soft, silky hair around their fingers and then tug as hard as they could, eliciting a painful sound from their new-found enemy. In spite of the pain, Dorothy and Carly were relishing the opportunity to ravage each other’s crowning glory. At times, it was difficult to determine if the moans were from pain or pleasure.
“Are you enjoying this as much as I am,” asked Dorothy?
At first, Carly didn’t understand why Dorothy would ask such a ridiculous question. Then it dawned on Carly – her overly large nipples were fully erect. Embarrassed and angered that Dorothy knew their hair pulling match had aroused her, too, Carly pulled even more viciously on a handful of red hair, coming away with a dozen strands. Proud of her achievement, she made certain that Dorothy saw her shake the hair from between her fingers.
Determined to come away with even more of Carly’s hair, Dorothy yanked hard on a lock of caramel-brown hair, netting her dozens of strands.
“Take a look at these, bitch. They’re going in my trophy cabinet!”
The sight of so much of her hair in Dorothy’s right hand made Carly go ballistic. Quick as a snake, she grabbed Dorothy with both hands, by the long, chin-length hairs which were growing-out from her former bangs. This caused Dorothy to bend forward at the waist as Carly pulled her about the room.
“Ooowww, let go of my hair,” Dorothy demanded!
Madder than a wet cat, Carly was resolved to separate the red hairs from their owner, no matter what. “Not until I snatch them from the front of your ugly head,” she responded!
With all her might, Carly swung Dorothy by her hair, causing her to lose her footing and go sliding to the floor. As her body went in one direction, Carly’s hands and two handfuls of Dorothy’s chin-length hairs went in another. “Yeeeooouch,” yelled Dorothy!
“I believe these are mine, now,” said Carly, with a triumphant smile on her face.
Seeing Carly holding two handfuls of her old bangs caused Dorothy to see red, she was so beside herself with anger. Leaping from the floor with outstretched arms, Dorothy latched onto two locks of Carly’s hair at the front of her forehead. Taken by surprise, Carly found herself being swung about the room by her hair. One mighty jerk later and Dorothy became the proud owner of two handfuls of long, caramel-colored strands.
“Yeeeooow, you fucking skank,” screeched Carly!
Before Carly could get up off the floor, Dorothy was on her, trying to get her in a school-girl pin. But Carly anticipated Dorothy’s move and got a good hold on two red locks dangling in front of her face. Pulling Dorothy close to her, Carly and her nemesis became entangled in a classic catball as they wrapped their legs together like a pretzel.
Slowly, they began rolling over and over, churning among the torn strands and tresses littering the floor as they continued to rip hair from one another’s scalps. Soon, the two rivals’ were surrounded by their ultra-long locks, making it difficult for them to see each other’s faces, even though they were only inches apart.
Dorothy and Carly were no longer engaged in a hair pulling match. Their catfight was now a hair pulling duel – a struggle for dominance between two contending, long-haired ladies. Descending into their own private, hair pulling hell, their catball had become a cocoon of tangled red and brown tresses, containing two fiercely struggling, hair-tearing furies. They had long since given up any concern for the fate of their own beautiful manes. Their only concern was to rob their adversary of as much of her crowning glory as possible – and both were succeeding admirably.
Dorothy decided to try and psyche Carly out. “Give up, you shaggy-haired slag. You’re losing lots more hair than me!”
“You give up, you stringy-haired slut. There’s more red hair than brown on the floor and more will be joining it soon if you don’t quit!”
“Oh, really – well, let’s see who’s right,” challenged Dorothy.
“Okay, let’s go for it,” replied Carly.
Still tangled in a catball, the two modern-day Rapunzels grabbed two handfuls of their rival’s hair on either side of their heads. Getting the best grip possible by cork-screwing their fingers into each other’s manes, Dorothy and Carly began pulling and pulling with every ounce of strength they had left. The pain was excruciating and still they continued to pull. Their pretty faces became grotesque masks. Tears rolled down their cheeks from tightly shut eyes. Constant, low-pitched “ooowwwsss” came from between clinched teeth.
Suddenly, the air was rent with two, almost simultaneous screams! Dorothy and Carly’s hands sprang away from their opponent’s head, as two handfuls of red and brown hair were torn loose from their scalps. Scrambling to separate, they kicked and pushed with their feet and legs. During their titanic struggle on the floor, they’d both lost their high heels. Warily, they backed away from each other while slowly standing up.
Surveying the contents of their hands, a smile began to grow on their faces. Surely, they thought to themselves, I came away with more of that bitches’ hair than she did of mine. When they raised their eyes while raising their hands to proudly display their battle trophies, Dorothy and Carly were in for a shock. There was little difference in the amount of hair they were holding.
For a moment, they were in disbelief; staring at the roughly equal number of strands clutched between their fingers. Then they locked eyes as they dropped their hair trophies. A low, guttural sound, almost like a growl, began to grow inside the throats of the two combatants. Crouching forward with arms spread out and hands open, they slowly began to circle one another.
When they each sensed the moment was right, they attacked, plowing their hands deep in the mass of red and brown hair. Within seconds, they assumed the classic posture of all women who engage in a hair pulling contest – bent forward at the waist, eyes looking down, and fingers grasping for handfuls of their adversary’s tresses. They were also fighting blind; surrounded by their lengthy locks that were dangling down onto the floor and restricting their vision. Back and forth they battled, tugging each other by two long locks all about the studio.
First Dorothy yanked Carly toward her, eliciting a groan from her opponent as strands were torn loose from Carly’s head. Then Carly returned the favor and jerked Dorothy forward, causing her antagonist to grunt as strands were ripped from Dorothy’s scalp. By this point in their hair pulling match, their scalps were on fire and very sensitive from all the strands that had been plucked free, increasing the pain both women were dishing out to their rival. In spite of this, the two ladies refused to admit to their opponent that they were in agony.
“Is this the best you’ve got,” Dorothy asked?
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Carly retorted. “You’re all hair and no muscle!”
“I’ll show you what my muscles can do. I’m going to rip out the biggest handful of your hair, yet, you flat-chested bitch!”
“Well, you’re not exactly Dolly Parton. I’ll bet your bra is filled with more padding than boobs!”
Dorothy put her left hand on top of Carly’s head and pushed it away from her while she tangled strands of caramel-brown hair around the fingers of her right hand and pulled them toward her.
A strong yank and Carly yelled “Oooowwww, you stinking slut!” as she felt dozens of strands pop from her scalp.
Seeing Dorothy holding a couple of dozen of her caramel-brown hairs, Carly said “That’s nothing, you nasty bitch. You’re about to lose lots more of your scraggly, pink mop!”
Working her fingers into an even thicker lock of Dorothy’s hair, Carly pushed her enemy’s head away from her as she pulled the red tress toward her.
A powerful tug and Dorothy yelled “Yeeeooowww!” from the loss of several dozen red hairs. “I’ll get you for that you ugly, horse-faced skank!”
“Horse-face; you’re a fine one to talk, you pathetic, cow-faced whore!”
Madly pulling, jerking, yanking, tearing, and tugging on their waist-length manes, Carly and Dorothy were enveloped in a whirlwind of wildly tossing tresses and torn strands and locks, which floated silently to the floor. The fur literally flew as these two she-cats continued their competition to see which one could cause her rival the most pain and hair loss.
Minutes passed as more strands of red and brown hair accumulated on the floor, making it slippery and difficult for the two struggling ladies to keep their balance. All of a sudden, they tumbled to the floor. As they fell, they released their grips on one another’s hair, using their hands to break the fall. Scrambling to regain their feet, Dorothy was the first to rise. Grabbing a big hank of caramel-colored hair on top of Carly’s head, she yanked her to her feet. Catching the brunette off guard, the redhead slapped her very hard on the left cheek, causing Carly’s head to spin suddenly to the right and her lengthy locks to spread out behind her. Before she could react, Dorothy delivered a second, devastating, backhand slap even harder than the first – “Smack!”
Stunned by the force of the two powerful slaps, Carly was easily shoved to the floor. This time Dorothy was as quick as a cat and got Carly in a school-girl pin. Pushing her hair out of her face, she looked down at Carly and grinned as she gathered up two thick handfuls of golden-brown hair and pulled her head off the floor.
“Are you ready to give up now, bitch?”
With her scalp ablaze, her cheeks burning, and her head aching worse than she’d ever experienced, Carly couldn’t bear having her hair pulled anymore, nor did she have the strength to fight her way out of a school-girl pin. “I …give,” she answered in a low, dejected voice.
His palms sweaty from the excitement of what he’d witnessed, Al put down his camera for fear of dropping it. What should he do now? No sooner had he asked himself that question, than he had an answer. “Yes, that’s the ticket,” he thought. “Now, if I can only get both ladies to see it’s to their benefit, also.”
Entering the studio, Al was shocked by the amount of long, red and brown strands strewn over the floor.
“Holy crap! Are you two okay?”
Carly didn’t give Al a verbal response, but looked at him with a “What do you think?” expression on her face.
Dorothy was sarcastic – “Oh, we’re first rate.”
Both women were sitting apart, on the floor, surrounded by hair lost during their terrible duel. The hair still attached to their heads was a complete wreck, seemingly going in every direction at once.
“Look, I’ve got an idea that I think will make you both winners and more money. All I ask is that you hear what I have to say before answering.”
Both women nodded “yes.”
Al’s idea was brilliantly simple. He’d take pictures of Dorothy and Carly just as they looked now. Afterward, they’d straighten their disheveled manes and return for another set of pictures. The advertising pitch: “If these women’s tresses look this good after using our products and going through a hair pulling match, just imagine, ladies, how gorgeous yours will look.”
In the end, the hair products company bought Al’s idea, after polishing it up a bit. Both Dorothy and Carly were given contracts and more money than originally offered. As for their hair pulling duel; even though Dorothy won, she admitted it was more of a challenge than she expected. Carly, on the other hand, was not upset by her loss or intimidated by Dorothy. There would come a time when she would have her reckoning with the redhead.
THE END
