I once had a Hispanic friend who was a bit of a ladies’ man. They loved him - thought he was funny, charming, and debonair. Most of all, they always lauded over his hair. Oh how the women-folk would go on and on about his thick lustrous wavy black locks.

But had they known what I knew, I think they would have stayed away from him. You see, my friend Valdez had a secret. That fancy head of hair had been attained through preternatural means. At one time, he had almost no hair and it was obvious it bothered him greatly. He had tried all the “natural” remedies. Sought medical advice, tried every anti-balding solution on the market.

Eventually, he gave in and turned to the dark side. He visited a Voodoo priestess.

She gave him a precise list of ingredients to procure in order to cast the spell to restore his hair.

As these stories always go, shortcuts in the recipe were taken. My friend did not want to kill the yearling cockerel with his own hands and strip the meat from the bones. Instead, he stopped at the local fast food restaurant and picked up some fried chicken. He didn’t want to shear the wool from a newborn sheep, and instead chose to purchase a cashmere sweater. The list of unfortunate substitutions was long.

In the end, I suppose you could say he was lucky. He got what the spell promised - a full head of thick, gorgeous hair, if a little on the greasy side.

The Voodoo priestess, however, was covered from head to toe in a thick black goo that no amount of washings and soap could remove.

… (wait for iiiit) …

Tragically, it was a spill over from the hex on Valdez.

This entry was posted on Friday, May 9th, 2008 and is filed under Storytime, ~ Kwane. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.