A Little Levity

Today, I take the time to not be so serious. A friend of mine sent me something today that had me laughing out loud. You'll need a little bit of background for this upcoming tale. This friend was on a mission team that I was on, to Colombia, South America, in 1994. She and another N. American teammate, and I all had long-ish hair and about halfway through the summer, I noticed that one of them always had a scrunchie (puffy hair elastic) around her wrist. I asked her why and she said it was to tie her hair up in the night, so it didn't get in her face, etc. She had much longer hair than I.

I giggled and told her that I thought it was in case of a kidnapping, at which both of my friends looked a little confused. I explained. In the most dramatic part of my brain, since we were in Colombia as missionaries, we were always at risk of being kidnapped. We weren't, in actuality, but hey, I have a vivid imagination and had seen lots of horror stories on the news.

So, imagining I was kidnapped and held hostage for weeks, or maybe even months, I thought the kidnappers probably wouldn't be inclined to let me shower on a daily basis, nor blow-dry my hair. Meanwhile, my hair would get dirty, greasy, tangled, longer, and a scrunchie would be essential to tie back the bothersome locks. It only made sense to have a scrunchie on your wrist at all times.

The other background information here is that I was a theatre major in university, if you, my readers, didn't already know that. In 1997, I was in my second year, and I was assistant stage manager for a major production. It was shortly after that production that I wrote this story, and sent it to my two friends who had been in Colombia with me. I'm still amazed my one friend SAVED it and found it to send back to me. Thank you, Carolyn. You seriously made my day today.

Oh, and I also have to say that I had completely forgotten that I used to be a rather talented creative writer. Pre-children. My brain has so completely turned to mush these last 7-8 years. Hmmm...

The Case of the Missing Scrunchie

It was a dark and stormy night...no, wait, it wasn't. It was a dark night though, in mid-October. A wonderful production was being put on by some extremely talented actors and a great crew and one very special Assistant Stage Manager at the prestigious institution of the University of Lethbridge. The ASM previously mentioned (we'll call her Schmoog) was doing her illustrious duties that final night of production, giving five and ten minute calls to actors and making sure everything in the stage right wing was secure and organized.

When suddenly, the lead actress had a crisis!!! She turned to Schmoog, for who else could solve any theatrical problem than the illustrious Schmoog?! The actress's long locks of flaming (dyed) red hair were hanging loose, when they needed to be put up. The need so great, but could it be provided for? A scrunchie, she said, does anyone have a scrunchie? Schmoog looked down at her wrist, where a scrunchie sat, so unassuming and serene. It was almost always there, or in her hair, for a scrunchie is a girl's best friend in case of a *whisper* kidnapping. Schmoog thought and thought and thought some more. Could she part with her most faithful friend (especially the black one, which went with everything and held her hair the tightest and never slid out)?!?!? The actress's look of despair and Schmoog's generous heart won out and she slid the scrunchie off her wrist and handed it to the ever-grateful and much relieved actress and she quickly left to finish getting ready.

Schmoog went to her station to sit for the show and nearly forgot about her scrunchie, because what is a scrunchie for except to help a long-haired maiden in need?! After the show finished and things had been cleaned up, Schmoog made her way to the closing party, where alcohol and music flowed abundantly. In the excitement of the event and the humor of her inebriated friends, Schmoog forgot about the scrunchie. Her hair looked fabulous down around her shoulders that night and thoughts of kidnappings were far from her mind.

Sunday came and Schmoog slept, and slept, and slept. Monday came, and she decided she needed to move on with other aspects of her life, no longer as an illustrious ASM, but as a devoted, disciplined scholar. Okay, well, as a student. She pulled herself from her warm, cozy place of dreaming, and got herself ready for the day. It was Monday, as was mentioned, and Mondays are always good scrunchie days. But alas, the scrunchie that always was there, was NOT!!! Schmoog was at a loss! Where could it be? And then, ahhh, it came to her. It had not been returned at the end of Saturday night to its rightful owner. The exhileration of a drunken closing night party had even affected the only sober one there and the scrunchie had been forgotten.

So Schmoog changed her clothes (to go with a different scrunchie) and headed off to the great institution of learning. The search had begun for the missing scrunchie. The talented lead actress was asked and she said it had been left in the dressing room. So the dressing room crew was asked, and they said to ask the head of wardrobe. So the head of wardrobe was asked and he said everything was taken upstairs to the costume shop. So finally the costume shop lady, a sweet young thing named Teresa was asked. Alas, she had not even sorted the stuff from the show and could not give a satisfactory answer until a week or two later.

By now, several weeks had passed and it was already the middle of November. Schmoog was beginning to wonder if hope was fading. Teresa saw her many times and always said she was still looking but finally, the answer came. No scrunchie. Schmoog was saddened. For what does a scrunchie do when IT is lost? What if the scrunchie is the one who is kidnapped? Schmoog had no solution to this. She only knew that the scrunchie was there in case of a kidnapping, but the scrunchie going missing was a completely different story. The thought of her beautiful black scrunchie out there all alone made shivers run up and down her spine. All hope was lost. All had been questioned and all had not seen it. Was there a liar amongst them?

Schmoog stooped to low levels to find out. Seeing a black scrunchie in the long red locks of the lead actress one day caused her to run at her and quickly do a head check to see the features of it. But no, it was HER scrunchie, doing its job for its master. It had never been kidnapped and also had not seen Schmoog's faithful scrunchie. Schmoog felt terrible for doubting her friend and for thinking evil scrunchie-stealing thoughts, but when one's heart longs for something it is so hard to be rational.

Schmoog suffered for a couple more weeks, watching carefully what she wore, lest it clash with the colorful scunchies she still had at her disposal. Then, only two days before the writing of this story, Schmoog knew she had to move on. She knew she would have to enter a retail environment and start a new life with a new black scrunchie. The search was painful and the results had to be near perfect, to even compare with the life she had with the previous black scrunchie, which was a good 8 years. She knelt at a turnstile with hair treasures galore and tentatively reached out and took a most lovely velvet black scrunchie. It was truly remarkable. The touch of it made Schmoog smile and the elastic was as tight as a new scrunchie should be. She wasn't sure if the velvet would be too luxurious for her simple brown locks, but decided she was worth it, and this new scrunchie was so eager to please, Schmoog just had to take her home.

The very next day, Schmoog gently wrapped the new scrunchie in her hair. Later that day, Schmoog went to a fellow scholar's home to study for an examination that loomed the next morning. She showed off her new scrunchie, for it made her somewhat proud and she wanted the scrunchie to feel a part of her life. When suddenly, her friend bolted upright in her seat. She knew of the missing scrunchie and had news to share! A member of the hair and makeup crew had gone through the rooms and picked up all the things that were left. She had casually told Schmoog's friend that she had a couple of music tapes and a scrunchie. A BLACK scrunchie? the friend inquired. Why yes! was the response. She knew immediately whose it was and expressed how thrilled Schmoog would be when she heard. And as you can guess, Schmoog was very thrilled. She found it ironic however, that she wore in her hair a new black scrunchie, but decided her heart was big enough for two of similar type. And since it would be a month before she saw the current caregiver of her well-known black scrunchie, she would have all that time to bond with this one, so no one would feel jilted in the final end.

Thus ends our story of the missing scrunchie. We hope you enjoyed it and that it made you smile. It made us smile and laugh right out loud as we shared it with you!

(For the record, that velvet black scrunchie is currently sitting in my bathroom drawer across the hall. The original black one? I have no idea. The horror!)