Bridget stared at her reflection in horror. “This…this is not what I asked for.”

The stylist looked sheepish. “Sorry. Didn’t you say you wanted your hair short in front and long in back?”

“It’s a mullet! I definitely didn’t say I wanted a mullet!”

“Well, I just got out of beauty school two weeks ago. I guess I thought that was what you wanted.”

“No…no, it most definitely is not,” Bridget said. She couldn’t seem to turn away from her reflection, as much as her new haircut was scaring her.

“Well, maybe I can fix it…”

Bridget jumped out of the chair. “No…No, I think you’ve done enough.”

Bridget knew the stylist hadn’t meant to ruin her hair, but she certainly didn’t trust her to fix it. As she was fleeing the salon, though, her worst nightmare came true. She nearly ran right into Jake Simpson, the boy she had had a crush on since the sixth grade. And he was seeing her with this horrible haircut. Bridget had never wanted the earth to just open up and swallow her up so much.

Jake put his hand on his mouth, and Bridget felt herself turning bright red. It was clear that Jake was trying to keep himself from laughing. It took several moments, and then he finally took his hand away.

“Did…did you just get a new haircut?” he asked, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from snickering a bit. Bridget turned even redder, if that was possible, as two of Jake’s friends walked up. They didn’t even bother trying to keep themselves from laughing.

Bridget just turned and ran, hoping this nightmare would be over soon. What on earth possessed her to think it was a good idea to try a new salon? She could only hope that Marjory, who had been her stylist for years, would be willing to forgive her. Bridget had started feeling like she wanted something new, but clearly a new stylist was not the answer. She could only hope that Marjory would be able to take her in to fix her hair on short notice.

Marjory’s salon was located in her house. Bridget ran up and pounded on the door, hoping and praying that Marjory could fix this mess that she had gotten herself into.

Bridget felt like she had been pounding on the door for several minutes when Marjory finally opened the door. Marjory’s jaw dropped at the sight of Bridget’s haircut.

“Oh, good Lord! What did you do?”

Bridget almost cried. “I’m so sorry, Marjory. I decided to try different stylist. Clearly it didn’t go very well.”

Marjory continued to stare at Bridget. “To put it mildly. Here, come in.”

“Can you fix it?” Bridget asked, desperation creeping into her voice.

“Well, I think so, but we’ll need to make it really short,” Marjory said.

Bridget sighed. She was worried that would be the case. “That’s okay. I trust you.”

So, Bridget sat down in the chair and let Marjory get to work. Finally, Marjory whirled Bridget’s chair around. She now had a cute pixie cut. Bridget knew it would take some getting used to, but she was thankful to Marjory for managing to fix her horrible haircut.

“You fixed it! Thank you! I promise that I will never go to another salon again.”