Mac Eagan’s eminently readable entry into our A Dish Called “Wanda” contest makes me glad of many things:  First, that I don’t need a haircut.  Second, that Mac’s Wanda is fictional, although perhaps based on a real, live person, because I’m pretty sure I saw her at Wal-Mart the other day.  Third, that Mac followed his creative impulses and produced this tidy little exploration of the well-founded reservations a young man experiences when he gives himself over to a woman with sharp implements.

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Advance Notice

Jeremy found himself hiking up the stairs for the bazillionth time, carrying his belongings from the rental truck to his new bedroom.  Moving was not his idea and he hated everything about this day.  Walking back out of the house towards the truck yet again, he swept his hair back out of his eyes and behind his ears.

“You need a haircut,” his mother, Crystal, observed.

Jeremy did not respond.  He hated haircuts more than he hated moving.

His mother continued, “I’ll have to ask around and see if there is a good salon nearby.”

By mid-afternoon the truck was emptied.  A few of the neighbors had stopped by and introduced themselves to Jeremy’s parents.  Jeremy saw his mother talk at length to some of the women.

As a protest, Jeremy chose not to go with his parents to return the truck.

“Oh, by the way,” Crystal said on her way out,  “Alice Stephens from across the street recommended Wanda’s for a haircut.”

Jeremy watched as the big truck lumbered up the street with the mini-van close behind.  He went up to his room and found his portable gaming system, then went back outside.  Not staying inside the house was also a form of protest.

Shortly, a boy came walking up.

“Hi, I’m Bobby Stephens,” he said,  “from across the street.”

Jeremy acknowledged with a nod.

The two of them talked, discussing game-cheats, movies and music.  Jeremy’s hair kept falling into his face and he repeatedly pushed it out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ears.

“Dude,” said Bobby, “you either need a rubber band or a haircut.”

“My mom’s already working on it,” Jeremy replied. “Said something about some woman named ‘Wanda.’”

“Oh, Wanda’s,” recognized Bobby.  “That’s where my mom takes us.  They do a pretty good job.  Just don’t let Wanda herself work on you.”

“So, which one is Wanda?” asked Jeremy.

“Trust me,” Bobby said, “If she’s there, you’ll recognize her.”

The next day, Crystal told Jeremy they were going for haircuts.

As soon as Jeremy stepped inside the salon, he saw her.

She was an older woman, plus-sized, and wore soft pink polyester slacks, matching jacket, and a lime blouse accented with a lemony scarf.  Her unnaturally copper-red hair cast all of this in shadow, though.  All Jeremy could think about were black-and-white photos where every woman’s hair seemed to be stacked two feet high. Wanda has to be in one of those photos, Jeremy thought.

There were two chairs open – a brunette at the far end and Wanda.

Please, Mom, Jeremy thought, get Wanda.

“I can take you down here,” the brunette offered. Jeremy let out a sigh of relief but then had to take it back when his mother walked ahead of him.

“Here ya go, hon,” Wanda proclaimed loudly, “let me see you.”

Jeremy felt trapped.

“Oh, now, I don’t bite!  Unless ya ask me to!”  Wanda started cackling, very pleased with herself.

Jeremy reluctantly sat down in Wanda’s chair.

As Wanda clipped away, Jeremy noticed that she seemed so busy with her employees and other customers that she was not really paying attention to him.  Of course, it could have been just his imagination.

Could have been.  But wasn’t.

Wanda declared herself finished and let Jeremy see himself in the mirror.  Where Jeremy’s hair used to fall over his eyes and halfway down his cheek, now it didn’t fall anywhere.  At its longest it might have been half an inch.

“You’ll appreciate it with all this heat we’ve been having.”

Jeremy refused to speak.  His mother, on the other hand, would not stop gushing about what a nice change it was and how handsome it made her son look.

Getting back in the mini-van, Jeremy sat in the very back row.  He remembered one of his old hats was still in the cargo area.  As his mother pulled away, Jeremy leaned over the back seat and grabbed his hat.

He found himself looking out the back window and what he saw next stopped him cold.  He could see Wanda sitting in her chair.  Jeremy saw her raise her hand to her forehead and thought she was only going to wipe her brow, but instead she grabbed hold of that copper-red monstrosity atop her head and completely removed her wig.  Underneath was nothing but shiny scalp.

The words spilled out his mouth of their own accord.  “The locals warned me about Wanda’s, but why was there no warning about THAT?”

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…but if Jeremy had been warned, then we’d have no story!