Bobby's Radical Decision

Bobby was usually a pretty easy going fellow. He'd help people out whenever they needed a hand. If they asked him to hold up an impossible, over-the-top, French style bun alllllll day long he would happily do it. He was a hairpin after all, and what else was a hairpin supposed to do?

Bobby often got passed from one person to another. Rarely did anyone ever seem to miss him- there was always that moment in a rushed morning where someone would be near tears, on their hands and knees in the bathroom, reaching behind the toilet crying, "This job depends on this hairdo!"- but mostly, he lay unnoticed, cushioned between locks or abandoned on a dresser.

Then one night, a lady forgot to take him out. He had been on the side that day, not the pivotal pin in the Ballerina bun, and easily missed in the rush to get to bed. This had happened before and it concerned him little. He was always found, usually in the shower the next morning. This particular lady, however, kept a bin of hair supplies on her night stand. Bobby lay awake listening to them laughing and having a good time. They told jokes that he could only hear part of and stories he couldn't quite understand, so he always heard the reaction- a hardy laugh or a heartfelt "awww"- but could not take part.

Bobby had been in such bins before. They were always so fun. He remembered all the fun he used to have with the original pack of pins he had been sent out into the world with. They kept each other amused, making jokes about the customers in the store. The young girl who purchased them was impeccably neat, returning each and everyone of them to their spot, so that at night they could share the stories of the day with the ones who didn't get to go out. Bobby had even met a lovely Barrett named Lola who would sometimes slip out of her pouch to snuggle and say hello.

Bobby, wrapped in this woman's nasty hair, still stiff with hairspray began to feel bitter. He remembered the day he was lent to the girl's cousin and never returned to a consistent home after. He had been bitten and chewed on, forgotten and found, washed and left outside, passed from girl to girl and even a few boys. He'd been shoved in ears and noses, under nails and between teeth. Lost in couch cushions, stepped on, pocketed, and pulled to his limit- All without much enthusiasm or concern.

Anger welled inside of him as another burst of laughter roared from the plastic bedside tub, and Bobby- Bobby did the unthinkable. He wiggled off his little rubber protector, and he stabbed the lady in the head. She awoke with a start and, after rubbing the sleep angrily from her eyes, ripped Bobby out of her hair and tossed him across the room.

Bobby landed in a little pile of dust in the corner. If he'd of had tear ducts he may have cried. But just as Bobby was about to hate the world he heard a whisper. "uh hello?" the little voice asked in aw.
Bobby was not alone in the corner. He glanced over a few inches, and there, with a dust bunny the size of a quarter bouncing gently in the breeze of the vent, lay Lola the Barrett.

"Impossible!" though Bobby, but he soon found out it was not as crazy as he would have thought. The woman in the bed was the young girl from long ago. Somehow Bobby had made it home. He now felt bad from stabbing her, but Lola assured him to forget about it. The girl had become kind of bitchy and rude in her later years, and after an affair with a disgusting slob of a man, had lost a little bit of her fastidiousness. In fact, assured Lola, the girl had become so annoying that she, Lola, had purposely lost herself in this corner. Bobby was astounded.

Lola spent the night telling Bobby all the awful stories about the girl, and Bobby spent the day telling Lola all the stories about everyone else. It had been quite a time and they had a lot of catching up to do. At some point one of them let it slip that they had always loved the other, and so they decided to stay in their corner- at least for now- sharing stories, snuggling, and working for no one but themselves. They lived a very happy few months in the corner, until the grown girl decided to move and swept them up and threw them back in the bin with everyone else. They partied every night and wiggled their way to the bottom of the pile every morning, happy to be retired in their own private way.

Moral: If people start to get on your nerves and you're feeling unappreciated, just stab someone in the head and go hide in a corner. You're sure to find love there.