Bill the Mermaid by Diane Barker and minderella

Bill the Mermaid, by Diane Barker and minderella

Long ago and far away there lived a very stylish, flamboyant mermaid named Bill. Bill the mermaid (or merman, technically) was one of the most sought-after hair stylists in Greater Gracelessland.

Anyway, Bill was traversing gaily forward on the paisly brick road. He was a mermaid with a mission: he must find Elvis! And kiss him. For the past two days, Bill had been searching endlessly, without avail. Maybe it was true; maybe Elvis was dead.

Bill's spirits were beginning to subside, and he was getting distraught. He wasn't paying much attention to where he was going. He was wandering aimlessly. Then he tripped on a sideburn that lay smack in the middle of the road.

"Split ends... greasy residue... It must be Elvis's!"

Bill set off at a run, his golden locks billowing behind him, his high heels clicking on the travel-beaten bricks.

Just as he rounded a curve in the road, attractively breathless, Bill saw a grand castle rise before him. It reeked of poshness. He was smacked in the face by the music that burst forth from the open castle windows. The only thing that Bill the Mermaid liked more than doing hair was being an uninvited guest at a sophisticated party. He increased his pace and bounded across the bricks, just as someone off-page tossed him a basket of fresh spring flowers.

Bill struck a pose outside the castle door (on the off-chance that someone influential was watching), then leaped up and into the castle. Striking another pose, he threw the flowers aside and announced, "Bill the Mermaid has arrived." As an afterthought, he added, "I do hair."

With the clatter of fourteen tapshoes, seven little men, clad in leather, came can-canning out from behind the punchbowl.

"Who in bloody tarnation do you think you are?" Bill asked the dancing folk.

"We are . . . The Seven Dwarves of the Apocalypse!" they responded in chorus. The first dwarf stepped forward.

"I'm called Gingivitis."

"I'm called Hepatitis," the second dwarf stated, then bowed. They went down the line like that, stating their name then bowing.

"Tuberculosis!"

"Syphilis!"

"Mononucleosis!"

"Polionyelitis!"

"Bob!"

And they continued around the room, snapping their whips to the beat.

Bill the Mermaid stepped out from behind the shadows the doorway cast. He viewed the guests. Crazy, crazy people. He knew a few people present, mostly they were, at one time, clients of his.

Bill immediately noticed Rapunzel. She had her hair in a beehive. The top of the behive came just a few inches from scraping the cathedral ceiling. It was teased and there was so much hairspray in her hair, that it just gave off a totally clumpy look. The sight made Bill want to swoon. He had to sit down. He headed towards the couch.

Since Bill was at the back of the room, the back of the couch faced him. A woman was draped over the couch, her beautiful red locks cascading down her back. She was talking to someone who was sitting on the couch.

"Chuck, we have to leave before midnight! Otherwise that terrible thing will happen again," she said. Bill glanced at the huge grandfather clock standing against one wall. It read 10:15.

Bill sneezed. The redhead turned around and faced Bill the Mermaid. It was Cinderella! Boy, has she changed, Bill thought. (Bill did Cinderella's hair when he first started his business, back when she was just a sweet, innocent peasant girl that talked to mice.) Cinderella had a cigarette dangling from her mouth, and she was gulping champagne from a glass slipper held in her left hand. Her skirt slit up the front. A delicate rose covered a place where only a fig leaf should be.

"Baby, darling, Honey," Cinderella said, giving Bill the once-over. "Sweetie, Sugar. I'm..." (She paused dramatically) "so glad you came. Here, have a rose." Cinderella plucked the rose from her dress and laced it through Bill's lapel. "Something to remember me by," she whispered, then she left, heading towards the can-canning dwarves.

Bill rounded the corner of the couch and sat down. He was going to say something about the loveliness of Cinderella's hair, but one glance made the words stop dead in their tracks. On the opposite end of the couch, sitting there peacefully with a cheap beer in his hand, was Elvis!

"Are you... Are you the ... Are you the King?" Bill asked, awestruck.

"Naw, I'm just the prince," the guy responded.

"The prince?" Bill questioned.

"Yeah. You know, the Prince of Wales? You had to have seen me on TV. That bitch dragged my whole family down with her nasty insistence over a divorce. Luckily the media didn't find out everything.

To Be Continued. . .

Act V. THE TRUTH. (Love is hard work. And, sometimes, hard work can really hurt.) Love is a game. If they didn't tell you before, we will tell you now. Love is a game and if you play you either win, lose, or get ejected before the game is over. There are no ties. Maybe you'll lose and learn some great, meaningful answer from it all (like if it looks to good to be true, it is). It's easy to love something when you don't have to work at it. It's harder when it asks something of you. You just might be afraid to give. Give it anyway. The heart is the most resilient muscle. It is also the stupidest. So if this love you've found is good to you, hold it, keep it, shout about it. If it isn't, then maybe you should just become very good friends.