Amy looked around the hair accessories section of the store, trying to find a shampoo or a good comb that would help her keep her new hair beautiful. She noticed a spray bottle on the very top shelf. Its bold pink color is what attracted her to it. She reached up and grabbed it. The label read "Cozy Comforts: Coccoon yourself with a blanket of thick hair that protects and insulates you as you sleep." It sounded harmless enough, and Amy was already so excited about the wig becoming her real hair, she was liable to buy anything at this point.
She searched the store for Lina, finally finding her in a section with talking door knockers. She seemed to be in heated conversation with on that resembled a monkey's face.
"Amy, you were right! This place is insane! I'm being insulted by door knockers!"
"I was giving you a compliment!" the black metal knocker replied, making Amy jump in surprise. "It takes a good knocker to recognize good knockers!"
Lina's face flushed and she turned back to the monkey-faced thing. "Shut up about my body!" She grabbed Lina's wrist and marched down the aisle. Amy could hear a faint "Come back soon!" from the knocker as they reached the front of the store.
"Hang on, I have to pay for this," Amy said, showing Lina the hairspray. For the first time, Lina noticed Amy's brown curtain of hair.
"You got a wig?" she asked. "A store full of talking knick-knacks and you got a WIG?"
"It's not a wig anymore," Amy smirked. The old man rang her up on a dusty cash register and the girls were off. As they walked into the sunlight, Lina swore to herself that she would never go back to that store again.
Her parents, as expected, went crazy when they saw what happened to their daughter. Her dad began venting about her reckless behavior, going to a strange store and trying on whatever she liked. He was vocal in his concern that her hair would give her more problems than anything, and threatened to cut them short himself. Her mother, on the other hand, thought she looked beautiful and coaxed the scissors from her father's trembling hand.
"Fine," he fumed. "One day. ONE day. You live with that hair and you tell me how great it is after you've slammed it in a doorway or tripped over it five times." Amy, not very fazed by his tantrum, went to her room to get ready for bed. Through the door she listened to her parents talk to themselves and discovered the real reason for her father's outburst. He told her mom that she was so beautiful he didn't want any men to begin taking advantage of her...or worse. Amy thought he was being paranoid, as usual, and pulled her ear away from the door.
She combed her long hair for a long time, watching how it fell in waves as she let go and seeing its silky shine as the comb ran easily through it like water. Then she picked up the spray. Standing up, she uncapped it, then took a deep breath. She ran the spray up and down her hair for almost a minute to make sure it was completely covered.
The hair didn't seem to look much different. She waited a minute, wondering what the intended effect was supposed to be. When nothing seemed to happen, she walked to the light switch, turned it off, then headed over to her bed.
Something tripped her up before she reached it, however. She fell onto the carpet with a dull thud and her hair fell around her face. She couldn't see anything. She sat up, trying to brush her hair out of the way but it seemed different. Harder and unyielding. Then she felt something wrapping around her legs. When the restricting feeling reached her chest, she was forced back to the floor. Still unable to see anything, she could only assume her own hair was suddenly trying to tie her up. It started tightening around her neck, and she feared it was going to strangle her. When the tresses surrounding her face moved in, she tried to scream, but the thick hair muffled it completely. Amy's entire body was wrapped like a mummy in a coccoon of hair, restricting her lungs and clamping her limbs tightly together. She couldn't even breathe, and slowly she began to see stars and completely lost consciousness.