A Stranger, A Friend, And Some Drinks!

(scene: LCM, alone in the corner booth, looking great - someone he doesn't know approaches...)

Stranger: OK - I was confused and thought this was a guestbook. Its me who posted on AGC telling you to self promote all you want. Thanks for the levity.

LCM: (smiling grandly) Oh now, darling - you're far too kind - come and have a drink with LCM, sweetie - I'm all by myself here and that makes them nervous - to the point where they keep trying to have me arrested for loitering, darling, if I'm alone. (glaring at the bar staff and pouring drinks) But you know, sweetie, it's very fortuitous that you happened along when you did, because I've got life-altering decisions to make and I could use a little feedback. (handing cocktail) It's my wigs, sweetie. (pausing dramatically) Tongues are wagging and apparently I'm on the dark side of Mr. Blackwell's list this year because of them. (lips pursed, stoically) It's a sign, sweetie, that I've fallen behind the fashion. (taking a few wigs and styrafoam heads from his Prada) Here, darling - let me show and explain the history of my hair. (placing heads on table) Here we have my entire (using quotey fingers) "look" from 1979 til now, darling. (pointing to one) This one here is my Bo Derek corn rows look, from Xmas 1995. (pointing to another) And this is my Tammy Fae big Jesus hair from last week. (pointing to a third) And that of course is my standard Angela Davis, prison, 1971 look that I've worn three days a week since I accidentally testified against her, back in the day. (sipping cocktail) I've always felt bad about that too, darling - the FBI said I was testifying against that bitch Sandy Duncan - they said I'd go to prison if I didn't - I was young and drunk and forgot I was Canadian and they didn't have the power to do that to me - but at the same time my agent said I could use the exposure, so I testified. (looking "sad") I shouldn't have done it, but I did, and now it appears I'm about to have my Waterloo. (misty-eyed) The saddest part, darling, is that Angela and I were good friends - we shopped - we lunched - we dated all the same radicals. Tsk. If only I hadn't gone to that disasterous Carly Simon charity concert, darling - there'd been weather troubles and the docks on Nantucket were looking (using quotey fingers) "used." I mean, I blew off the Concert for Bangladesh for this - George Harrison never forgave me - to his dying day he'd never have sex with me and believe me once Patti was out of the picture I lounged around that pool of his ad nauseum. (patting head, realizing he's wigless) Oh. Yes. (grabbing Angela and putting her on) In any event, now I'm about to make the bad top 10 and I've been thinking I need an update to my look, darling. (taking out a new head) What do you think of this one, darling? It's eons beyond anything I've ever attempted. (pausing, looking at the head) I call it my Christina, darling - as in Christina Agu - Agu - Agucultural - or whatever her bloody name is. (staring blankly at it) I mean look at it, darling - it's bleached to the atoms, limp and messy and dirty looking - but apparently that's the fashion these days - you have to seem like you just woke up from a sex-induced coma - god, I just hate it. (lips pursed) No, sweetie - I can't do it. I can look like anything, but I can't have limp hair. (smiling through the tears) So there you have it, sweetie - I'll stick with my beloved Angela and face that buggery Blackwell with my chin up, darling. (patting wig, comforted) I'll kick him in the crotch though at the ceremony, sweetie - mark my words.

Patting Wig, Proud And Vengeful
{{{{{LCM}}}}}
Centre of the Known Universe