Stoned Julia 

Puts on her shoes. She’s late for work but work doesn’t occur to her. Dad called and said I’ll not be home, not the now. Dad called and said, I’m reading all of it. Dad said I’m done. I’m done with this.

Stoned Julia stops by the salon and asks for a casual shag. 

We’re out of razors, the girl says. 

Do whatever you want, says Julia. The world is moving very slowly and she will have the hair for it, pronto.

The salon has a fine selection of scissors and combs. Julia is texting very slowly the underwater pleas of a failing employee. She’s supposed to be at work but she can work from her phone. She has words for every pore in a body. 

What do you do, when you’re not looking this cute? The hairdresser says, snipping Julia’s fringe into triangles.

I make content. 

Content.

It’s kind of boring.

What kind of content? 

I pretend I’m famous and sometimes reply to pitiable men who want me. As in me, the celebrity. I am good at being not who I am.

Is the pay good? She spritzes with expert nips the front half of Julia’s hair.

It pays. 

Huh. 

Put it this way, I don’t ever wanna serve tables again. But then, you put up with some shit in the content farm, let me tell you. 

The hairdresser squints with a dash of suspicion.

Want dye? 

Is there a colour? I mean, it’ll cost more. 

What?

What do you think of me, naturally? 

You’re a mousy blonde. 

I guess. 

I mean, do you like it? 

I blend in. Nobody knows that I’m the voice of a famous — 

Can I make you strawberry blonde? It won’t take long if I super bleach. 

Can I just have a moment to vape outside? I wanna finish this monologue. Then I’ll make a decision.

You can just vape in the toilet. But you’ll have to take the cloak off. 

Okay.

Outside is overrated. They say the pollution —

Girl, I haven’t got all day, Stoned Julia slurs.

Okay, well, lift up your arms. 

I have strawberry ice vape, lychee vape, goes Julia, parma violets. I smell like chemistry. 

What do you mean? 

Just chemistry. Something I remember. 

The salon girl hums.

How long is this going to take?

She’s putting a ton of foils in Julia’s hair, heavy thick silver foils that fold endless origami smelling of chemicals.

The foils need twenty minutes then I’ll do an orange wash, with a splash of pink maybe. 

Another hour in total. 

Julia, nodding off, relishes the incoming wrath of her boss.

More foils. A machine that goes over her head is so sci-fi.  

Do your parents know what you do? 

Julia mumbles like… her parents are dead, or she doesn’t know.

What are they doing? What are they doing right now?

She tries to picture them watching television but only sees static. 

Things are a bit fuzzy. Her hair is so, so wet. Dripping. 

Honey you’re gonna look gold when I’m done. 

Strawberry gold. 

Pretty much edible.

What you writing now? 

Wouldn’t you like to know what the famous love.

I feel like it must be amazing to be anyone in the world. 

Sometimes. Sometimes it stings. 

Do they say anything weird?

Like you couldn’t imagine. I once sent them a packet of my toenails for a hundred dollars, claiming they belonged to ___________.

Could you not get sued for that? 

People don’t copyright their toenails honey. The whole industry runs on body parts and scams.

How did they know they were buying the real deal?

I painted them violet.

The hairdresser takes ten minutes to blow dry Julia’s hair, using a diffuser the size of the moon. Everything afterwards is huge and bouffant. 

Wow, I love it. What would my dad say? Girl you’re a CAKE! 

I guess ___________ would have violet toenails, I mean I can see it. She pauses, holds a mirror up so Julia can see the back of her head.

Do you like it? She brushes some flyaways into place with a small comb. 

Yeah I look delicious. You’re really good. I can see this working.

A woman in the opposite seat is talking about the scandal involving a local politician. 

Yo that guy went to high school with me, the wash girl chimes, rinsing silver from the octogenarians — two of them at once. He used to go out with my sister. He seemed kind of rich.

A phone rings. 

You need to delete more with the razor. Hone in on it. I’m looking for an edge.

I wonder if anyone still has his number, Julia thinks. Julia sees his baby face in a newspaper and knows the big policy. What he’ll do to the city. What he’d do to her.

Hmmmmmmm…..hmmmmmmmm…..hmmmmmm…. goes the razor.

Brush little sweat from someone’s brow.

So are you happy girl? You look great, go get ’em.

Cutely, Julia is tousling her blonde curls, newly bright, a shade too tangerine. The credit card taps sweet and completes a big transfer. It’s a big day. Fragrant.