FICTION

"WHATEVER HAPPENED TO MY CURLS”

Dorothy 5-H-24 FPE

It was awful! Friday night and this! This, of all things! Everything had started out all right. Goodness knows, everything had seemed per- fectly OK and then this . . .

I'd come home from work, kind of bushed but a nice kind of bushed, and ready and eager for an especially nice weekend-I had so much planned so many nice things to do. Like going to Millie Gorman's Goodie Shoppe right after supper to get a dress I'd seen in her shop window and yearned for so much I practically could taste it! Stuff like that.

So, anyway, I came home from work at Uperdown Aircraft where I worked as a draftswoman, had a snazzy bath, using lots of scented bath salts (very good for a girl's morale), had a quick snack (very good for a girl's figure) and decided to set my wig.

Just in case, you don't know. I'm a full-fledged TV, you see, and I live and operate as a full-time girl (boy, oh bov!) and I wouldn't have it any other way for anything! And I was ready to rev it up this particular weekend, starting with that heavenly new dress, and I certainly would have except that-well-I was kind of excited and I set my wig and then found I couldn't find my other freshly set and combed-out and ready-to-wear wig. I simply couldn't find it! It just wasn't there. There on my dressing table with its copiously ruffled and flounced skirt was the block, all right, but there wasn't anything like the scrumptious hair-do I'd planned to be seen in! Frantically I looked everywhere, just in case I'd put the darn thing somewhere else and forgotten it. Uh-uh. It just wasn't in that darned apartment. It had vanished completely.

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