My new and improved twisted fairy tale!!!

You may have enjoyed my past fairy tale, but this one is 10 times better! I totally changed the story line, so even if you read the lat one you can read this one. This is the 3rd draft, by the way.

Justin See
Mr. Dye
Socratic Seminar, Period 7-8
9 August 2008
Rumplestiltskin’s Hair Salon
Rumplestiltskin was famous throughout the land of Happilyjoyful for his hair salon. Yes, you heard right. He was a barber. He was a simple Frenchman who came over the sea to make his fortune in the realm of hair cutting. He was tall, and quite skinny, with fingers built to hold scissors. He always had a grin on his face, welcoming in new customers with its joyful radiance. Under his stout nose was one of those nifty French moustaches, and he was always twirling it with his long fingers. His wondrous hair, crafted by his own artistic talent, was always swept back into a small ponytail and greased down with gel. What charmed his customers the most though, was his accent. It was the most beautiful French accent that you had ever heard.
This story started on a bleak, gray morning. It was raining outside, a rare occasion in that part of the land. Gray clouds blanketed the earth, casting a shadow that seemed as though it would forever cover the people of that land. The rain was beyond cats and dogs, but rather horses and cows. The thunder seemed to shake the land to its very core, and the lightning struck viciously again and again. It was not a happy day in Happilyjoyfulland.
Everyone was inside on this bleak morning, including Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin’s shop sat on a proud little hill overlooking the small village that sprawled out beneath him in a valley. The door was the first thing that caught your attention, as it was painted as yellow as the sun a bright day. Next to it was one of those cool twisting candy cane things that for some reason signifies ‘barber’. Above the door sat a yellow sign with purple letters that said: “Le French Magnifique”. On either side of the door were two closed windows with advertisements and flyers all over them. The roof was made entirely of bright red shingles, and had a small chimney poking out in one corner. The rest of the house was made of brick, matching the roof.
Inside, on a giant purple chair, reading “The Top Ten Hair Styles of the Year”, sat Rump (his nickname). Soft French music played in the background, and the whole shop smelled subtlety of hairspray and gel. Against the wall behind him sat a row of chairs meant for his customers. Each chair had a small table next to it with scissors, razors, gel, and other hair products. In front of each chair was a mirror, with a lavish gold lining. To his side was a waiting room, complete with lush red foreign carpet with purple ling and fancy patterns, and fluffy purple chairs. There was a stack of magazines in one corner, all similar to the one Rump was reading, such as “How to Get Beautiful Hair in Ten Days” or “Why Bother with your Hair Style?” Despite all of the decorations, no one was there. All of the seats were dejectedly empty.
All of the sudden there was a knock on the door. It was a quiet, urgent knock. Rump started at the sudden noise and looked around. Then he sighed, put down his magazine, and stood up to go to the door. It swung open with a slight creak. Standing in the doorway was a teenage girl. She was dripping with rain, and her brown hair lay matted down against her face and shoulders. She wore a simple white dress, with no adornments. Although she was quite attractive, she looked horribly depressed, and her eyebrows met together in a scowl. She marched inside without being invited in. “Humph!” she grumbled, and plopped down into one of the overly padded chairs.
“May I help you, my lady?” Rump said in his wondrous accent. His smile seemed to have no effect on her downcast appearance. She stared at the ground a moment, and then replied:
“I have just been rejected.” Her voice was firm, but her lip quivered as if holding back a sob. “My boyfriend for many months has just left me.”
“Why, that is horrible!” He gasped, putting a hand to his mouth.
“I know it is you idiot! I’m the one who has had to deal with it!” She snapped back, tensing up in her chair.
“Why, how can I help you? There must be a way.” Rumple said. He seemed unaffected by her harsh attitude.
“Do you know why he rejected me?” she said quietly, ignoring his question. “It was because of my hair! Of all things!” she said, voice suddenly rising. “He wants ‘golden locks’, because my ordinary brown hair just isn’t good enough!”
Rumple began to say, “Well madame, I do specialize in that are-“
“Of course you do!” She yelled suddenly, cutting him off. “That is why I have come here!” She sunk back down in the chair, defeated. “I want to change my hair.” She began to fiddle with her hands anxiously. “I want to change it to gold!”
“What?” said Rump, a look of total surprise on his face. “No one has ever done that before! How could you do that to your perfectly good natural hair?”
“Please! I’ll do anything to do it!” she exclaimed. She put her hands together in a begging sort of way. “I must have my love back!” Her eyes were pleading, and hopeful.
Rumple didn’t reply right away. He stood up from his chair and began to pace back and forth on the brown tile floor. The only noise was the soft music in the background and the occasional thunder. Rump appeared to be deep in thought.
The girl patiently waited on her chair, her hands still held together.
“O.K., I’ll do it.” He finally declared, and his tense eyebrows finally loosening. The girl sat up, a subtle look of victory on her face. Her eyes seemed to light up for the first time. “Please take a seat.” He said, waving his arm in the direction of one of the chairs on the wall meant for his customers. The girl immediately stood up with new vigor and scrambled over to the chair. She squirmed in anticipation. But then she hesitated for a moment.
“How… how will you turn my hair to gold?” she inquired, looking at him questioningly.
“Ha! Hair into gold. That is funny. I am afraid ‘golden locks’ is only an expression, my dear.” Her mouth shaped into an ‘o’ as realization dawned on her face.
“So then… what will you do?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. A sudden serious look came upon Rumplestiltskin’s features. His head came up a little higher.
His voice lowering dramatically, and he said: “I will dye your hair blonde.” His said, and lightning flashed as he said it, adding meaning to the statement. Walking off, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
Rump walked to the back of the room, past all of the chairs and mirrors. He stopped at a large wooden door, twisted and warped with knots and lines. It stood over 9 feet tall, towering over the room ominously. In the center of the door sat a red sign, that said in white letters:
TRESPASSERS WILL HAVE THEIR HEADS SHAVEN
He walked right up to the door and gripped its giant golden doorknob, his long fingers twisting around it. He pulled it open on oiled hinges.
For a moment, the room seemed to glow with a heavenly radiance. Then, you could make out that it was, in fact, heaven, but for a hair stylist. Shelf after shelf lined the walls, filled with every hair product imaginable. There was shampoo and conditioner galore, of the highest quality. There was dandruff treatment products and hair thinning oils. There were scissors and razors from size 1 to size 20. An entire shelf was dedicated to brushes and combs of various sizes and shapes, all neatly organized into little blue baskets. On one shelf, neatly folded, were several stacks of those weird hair aprons that they use to keep hair off of your lap. In the very back of the room was perhaps the most amazing accomplishment of any barber. The entire back wall was filled with 4 giant jars, about 15 feet tall and 5 feet wide each. One was labeled BLONDE, one BRUNETTE, one REDHEAD, and one OLD LADY WHITE HAIR. Each jar was filled with hair. The girl sat and gaped at the giant jars. Rump noticed and chuckled to himself.
“Ah, yes. This is my greatest life accomplishment.” He looked at the jars adoringly. “Those jars are filled with every piece of hair from every customer I have ever had. But that is not what we need!” He said, and turned to a small case right near the jars. “We need the dye!” Opening the case, he reached inside and pulled out a small golden bottle labeled “Blonde Beauty” in tiny black letters. He held it up a look of awe on his face.
“You are the first customer I have ever used this with.” Rump said, walking out of the room. The giant door closed shut behind him without a sound.
“Oh goody!” She said joyfully. “I’m going to get my Humphrey back.” She gazed into the distance with a lovelike trance.
“Well now,” Rump said, putting his hands on his hips, “Let us begin!”
The girl buttoned on one of the hair aprons, and Rump spun her around to face the mirror. He covered her face and ears with a cloth, so the dye would not affect her skin. He opened the tiny bottle carefully. Hands trembling, he dropped one, two, then three drops into her hair. The girl shivered from the touch. He carefully smeared the dye around, doing each hair individually, like a loving parent cradling his child in his arms. Soon the dye was spread.
Rump then swung her around to a sink on the other side of the room. He pulled out a little bottle of conditioner and placed a glob in her hair. He rubbed it in, then washed out her hair with in the sink. Her hair shone brilliantly after the treatment. He pulled her back to the mirror and sprayed her hair with some more treatment. Swinging her back around to face the mirror, he pulled of the cloth with a flourish.
The girl blinked a few times to get used to the light. She slowly focused, then looked into the mirror. At first, there was no reaction. She just stared blankly at her reflection. Then a smile slowly crept onto her face. It grew and grew, until her grin went almost ear to ear. Then she laughed, a joyful, happy sound.
“Oh, Humphrey shall truly love me again!” She exclaimed. Her voice reduced to a whisper. “My hair is truly golden now.” She pulled on a lock of hair, admiring its new color and brilliance. “How can I ever thank you my dear barber?” She said, looking at him as if he were the greatest person on the planet.
“Oh yes, it is wonderful isn’t it? If only I could add your hair to my jar, it is my greatest accomplishment. Perhaps now more shall follow in your footsteps…” He glanced at the golden bottle, amazed at its power.
“Yes, well, maybe I shall return for a haircut another time? Or for another dye.”
Rump replied in a businesslike voice: “Please remember now, to retain the brilliance and color, apply conditioner every day after you shower. Do this every day for at least one week for full performance. Also, do not dye your hair for at least a month after the original dying.” She stared back at him blankly.
“OK, I suppose so. Now, what do you ask in return for this glorious deed? Do you want my handkerchief, perhaps, or my firstborn son?”
“54.95.” He said plainly, holding out a hand.
“Wait, what?” She blinked, confused.
“The price is 54.95, plus tax.” Rump said again, his hand held out expectantly.
“Why, I don’t have any money! How can I pay you? How can you expect me to pay you?” Her voice rose dangerously. “My boyfriend just broke up with me you know!”
“That is the price for my treatment. Didn’t you read the signs on the way in?” He pointed to the window, where all of the signs were.
“Well, it was raining, and I d-didn’t see them…” she stammered. She looked over at the signs, just to make sure. Sure enough, there it was. ‘Hair treatment: $54.95 plus tax.’ She frowned in frustration. Then she noticed a note on the bottom of the sign:
‘Customer satisfaction guaranteed. Full refund if not satisfied!’ A ridiculous idea suddenly came to her. She turned and faced Rumplestiltskin once more.
“Why, I do believe I am not satisfied!” She said in an accusing tone. Rump looked back at her, taken aback that she would even dare say such a thing.
“Why, this is one of my greatest works! How can you say that? I turned your hair into beautiful golden locks, just as you asked.” He glared back at her questioningly.
“But that is exactly what you did wrong. I asked you to turn my hair into gold. You did not do what I asked!” She shook a finger at him, shaking her head in disappointment. Rump just looked back at her, mouth agape. He closed it up and down, as if to say something. Then he just turned and kicked the bottle of ‘Blonde Beauty’ across the room in anger.
“This is unacceptable! I put my soul into your hair. How can you say that you are not satisfied!” He stomped around the room in frustration.
“Nope. I am not paying.” She said flatly, folding her arms.
“Fine then. If you will not pay, I will make you a deal. Unless you can guess my name, you have to go home to your boyfriend and beg him for money in return for my deed.” He said.
“It’s a deal.” She said, a smile on her face. Rumplestiltskin knew that know one could ever guess his name, no matter how hard they tried. No one had a name like him. But the girl kept smiling, as if she knew she would win.
“Why do you smile! You will never be able to guess my name.” Rump said, a bit upset by her grin.
“Then how do I know that your name is Rumplestilskin!” She yelled, laughing in his face. Any look of happiness fell off of Rump’s face.
“H-how did you know?” He asked quietly.
“You’re wearing your nametag you silly goose!” She kept laughing, holding her hands to her stomach and rocking back and forth in her chair.. He looked down and, sure enough, was a tag that said, “Hi! I’m Rumplestiltskin!” He stood there watching her for a moment, his anger slowly building as she rubbed in her victory with her horrible laughing. Just as tears came to her eyes from laughing so hard, Rump attacked. He grabbed a razor off of the table next to him and lunged at her new perfect golden hair, which he himself had created. He shaved a jagged line, right down the middle, and the hair fell in a little flurry down to the tile floor.
The girl stopped laughing, the tears coming to her eyes now ones of sorrow. It was Rump’s turn to laugh as she ran out the door into the rain, her tears hidden amongst the downpour. Rump laughed, then gathered up the hair on the floor and carried it back to his BLONDE jar.
Hailerillapamadeline ran crying all the way home, in the valley below. She was surprised to find Humphrey standing near the door, waiting for her. He held a box of chocolates tied with a pink bow and a sign that said ‘I’m Sorry.’ He looked at her, smiling. She looked back, smiling as well, her sorrow wiped away by the sight of her loved one. The he looked at her hair and gasped, first in joy at the new color, then in horror as he saw the hideous baldness down the center of her scalp. He dropped the chocolates and ran.
So Hailerillapamadeline did not live happily ever after, despite her new golden locks, and Rumplestiltskin happily continued his hair styling career for the rest of his days.


THE END