The nurse wlaks you through the door, then goes back and shuts the door behind you.
The room you are in looks like a beuaty salon-except for the calliope music playing in the background, the wallpaper covered with circus scenes, the only mirrors ar hand mirrers, and the fact that the six beauticians and eight women getting their hair or faces done are all clowns.
One clown-lady get up from her hair, her hair all wrapped up in curlers, and wearing a bathrobe like yours, and goes to one of the blowdrying chairs. The beautician who'd been atteneding her waddles over to you. She is a rather fat whiteface with a blue beehive and a very small nose for her plump face. The name tag on her pink polka dotted clown dress reads 'Dottie Belle.'
"Hello there miss," she says, "welcome to the Salon. We'll do your hair, give you a manicure and pedicure, and add some touch-ups to your face."
You go over to the empty chair with her and you sit down. She puts a barbershop apron over you, and calls for two assistants. "Bubbles, you do her fingernails," she says to the purple-haired auguste, "and Sparkles, give her a pedicure." As Bubbles and Sparkles do as their told, Dottie Belle chuckles. "They're good girls, but all they can do now are nails. The last time Bubbles did someone's hair, the woman wound up bald as a cueball!"
"She didn't sue you, did she?" you ask, glad Bubbles isn't doing your hair-although you would look pretty silly bald.
"No, she liked it. In fact, you'll probably see her if you go to that clown strip club two blocks down form here," Dottie chuckles. "Now lean back while I give you a shampoo."
You do as she says. A strange, tingling sensation runs through your scalp. "Okay, I've rinsed it out," says Dottie. "Now tell me what style you want."
"Whatever you think suits me best."
"What color?"
"Surprise me."
Dottie pours a bottle of a sweet smelling liquid into your hair. After massaging your scalp for several minutes she cuts your hair and rolls it into tight curlers.
After she's done with your hair, steps in front of you. "And now we need to touch up your face," she says. "What you've got now is fine for a start, but after I'm done you're really goning to shine!"
Dottie pats your face with a pleasant smelling powder puff, brushes your face, then pats it again with a different smeeling puff. After she brushes that away, she sprall a bubblegum-scented mist of your face.
"Can I have a mirror?" you ask.
"No, first you need to have your hair dried." You step out of the chair and walk over to one over the hair dryers and sit down, pulling the dryer bubble over your head. You do look at you hands and feet, and see that your nails on both are now a bright, glittering red.
The dryer turns on but the noise is low enough that you can hear the two matronly-looking clown women sitting next you talking. "My Bluebelle is just about the best on the girl's juggling team; she just won third at the sixth grade juggling tournament while strapped to a pogo stick!" one of them brags.
"Well, my little Benny Button is the best unicyclist in his age group," say the other, "he just won first in the pleasure Island Unicycle marathon!"
The dryer stops blowing And Dottie walks over with a hand mirror. "Times up, she says as she lifts up the dryer bubble and takes the curlers out of your hair. "Have a look at yourself."
You take the mirror, and your heart skips a beat. The white in your face shines like fine porcielen. Your electric blue eyshadow and your red clown mouth shine like fine class, and your big red nose is covered with glitter. Your auburn hair has been dyed the same red as your finger and toenails and curled into a bushy afro.
You fluff your hair and your red mouth widens. "I love it!" you exclaim.
"Oh I almost forgot. Open your mouth." You do, and Dottie sprays somthing that tastes like cotton candy on your tongue.
"What was that?" you ask, then you gigle at how silly you voice sounds; it's like you inhaled some helium!