InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Summer ❯ The Great Pom-Pom Caper ( Chapter 12 )

 

Chapter Twelve: The Great Pom-Pom Caper

 

“Oh my,” said Carol. It was the only thing she could say, given the situation. She hadn't thought that Cindy would … oh my.

 

“There, now he is BEAUTIFUL!” Cindy closed a compact with a confident snap.

 

“Um…” Carol squinted. He was certainly something, at least.

 

“Well, come on Carol, praise my GeNIuS!”

 

“Oh yes … it's very -interesting Cindy, but … you think we could maybe, possibly get rid of the … you know?” She gestured to the offending accessories.

 

Sesshoumaru turned towards the mirror, curious.

 

“No!” Carol yelled. “Wait `til we fix it, trust me!” If Sesshoumaru saw what Cindy had done to his hair, dear lord, his hair-! Carol wasn't exactly sure what he would do, but she had a good idea what she would do, if it had been her hair that was … violated in such a way.

 

“Nonsense,” said Sesshoumaru.

 

“No really, you don't want to—“ but it was too late. Much too late.

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed.

 

“Get these pink … things, “ he said, through clenched teeth, “out of my hair. Now.”

 

“But they look so good on you!” cried Cindy.

 

“Whoa—heh, wait a minute. We'll just be taking those out now, okay? Yes? Cindy?”

 

“B-but—“

 

Carol was already removing the pink, sparkly pom-poms, ever conscious of Sesshoumaru's threatening gaze.

 

“They're so sparkly and pink!” Cindy whined.

 

“It's for the best,” Carol grunted, tugging at a particularly obstinate pom-pom. Stupid thing wouldn't—oh no. Carol twisted it slightly to the left, carefully avoiding pulling Sesshoumaru's hair. (Which was, in case anyone is wondering, just as silky and strawberry-scented as everyone has come to believe. Really. I swear.) Still, the offending hair tie was stuck tighter than a three-hundred pound hillbilly lodged between a reasonably priced pet grooming salon and an SUV.

 

Sesshoumaru was getting impatient.

 

“Just a minute, heh—almost got it.” Carol tugged frantically. A huge snarl had magically materialized around the pom-pom sometime after its introduction to the soft, aesthetically pleasing wonderland of Sesshoumaru's hair. (The hair is just that good. It has weird powers. )

 

“Hmm,” Cindy leaned over, “it looks like that pom-pom is stu—“

 

“Don't use the s-word!” Carol hissed. Must not alert Sesshoumaru of the problem, she thought. Of course, she had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

 

“—pendous. Stupendous! “ Cindy finished, “That pom-pom is stupendous, and I for one think that we should leave it there forever. Yes! FOREVER!” Cindy jabbed Carol, raising her eyebrows, in a classic `behold-my-cleverness-and-be-amazed' moment. You got a lot of those, around Cindy.

 

“Remove the pom-pom,” said Sesshoumaru. Carol tried unsnarling the knot. This only served to enrage it. She suspected that it was laughing at her. The more she worked at it, the tighter the knot became. It was like some horrible reality TV show that just kept spiraling downwards into the seedy underworld of sex, drugs, and rich blonde heiresses trying live like human beings. Only not. The sentiment was the same, though. The sentiment. Both these situations made Carol die a little inside.

 

Carol yanked. She pulled, jerked, fiddled, coaxed, cajoled, threatened and prayed to the pom-pom gods for sweet sweet mercy. It was not to be. (The pom-pom gods are temperamental. And also very sparkly around the edges.) The pom-pom was fused to Sesshoumaru's hair.

 

Now, Carol had a few options. She could tell Sesshoumaru that the pom-pom wouldn't come out. This route was clearly utter madness. Carol could only imagine the rage, the blood and gore…the ruined carpet! No, she could not tell Sesshoumaru.

 

She could try to cut the pom-pom out without his knowing. Somehow, however, Carol knew that if a pair of scissors came within a five-mile radius of Sesshoumaru's hair, there would be hell to pay. Plus, she would have to enlist Cindy to clandestinely fetch a pair of scissors, and Cindy on a stealth mission was a recipe for disaster. Come to think of it, Cindy with a pair of scissors, safety or otherwise, was an even surer recipe for disaster. No way could Carol cut it out.

 

Maybe she could just ... leave it in, and say she'd taken it out. He might not—oh who was she kidding? Of course he'd notice! Even she noticed when something got caught in her hair, and she was human. The pom-pom could not escape Sesshoumaru's powerful demon senses anymore than certain character actors can escape the roles that made them famous or a pop-singer can escape the media circus.

 

Maybe she could cook up some scheme to convince him to leave the pom-pom in. She didn't see how it was possible, Sesshoumaru hated the pom-pom. In fact, Carol hated the pom-pom. Deeply. Well, it was behind his head, so he couldn't see precisely how ridiculous it looked. Maybe there was hope. (And maybe, Carol thought, tiny purple monkeys are dancing on the surface of my brain.) She knew it was a stupid plan, but it seemed to be the best option she had. The idea did have a strange appeal, yet it was just crazy enough to get the furniture scuffed. For the love of all that was clean and lemon-scented, she prayed that it would work.

 

“Stupendous,” she muttered, her legs feeling like jelly. (And not the good kind of jelly, either, the cheap kind that people never really set out to get, but always seem to bring home with them, confused as to how it got in their shopping bags. The kind of jelly that tends to be an impulse buy at the cash-register, or the result of some coupon clipped from the back of a tasteless magazine. )

 

“Have you taken out the pom-pom, wench?”

 

“See now, about that …” Carol began, taking a deep breath. Now or never. “I didn't notice before, but, this is a special … pink, sparkly pom-pom.” Okay. Not the best start. Still Carol pushed on.

 

“In this world, it is a sign of great power. Great sparkly power. And nobility! Oh the nobility!”

 

“Don't forget strength and intellectual prowess!” put in Cindy, who could be helpful, at times. Law of averages, and all that.

 

“Yes. It's highly respected. Um…it suits you. Yes! A symbol of your greatness!” Carol said, trying to gage his reaction.

 

“And mushrooms!” said Cindy, ruining her previous helpful streak.

 

“No mushrooms,” corrected Carol, sharply. “Really.”

 

Sesshoumaru considered this. Carol held her breath. Cindy had no concept of the imminent danger to her precious, precious life juices whatsoever.

 

“So should I leave it in?” asked Carol, when the pressure became too much for her to bear. She'd like to know precisely when her spinal cord would be rearranged, thank you very much.

 

Sesshoumaru nodded.

 

“No! Not my spinal co—oh, “said Carol, relieved. She resolved to go out and eat at the local Shady Ben's Discount Sushi Bar. She felt lucky today.

 

“Can we go see Madame Zelda now?” asked Cindy.

 

“Um …” Carol appraised Sesshoumaru. Let's see, he had the human clothes, the human skin (Cindy, shockingly, wasn't at all bad at applying cover-up), the human-ish hair (Carol tucked the pom-pom discreetly into his ponytail, under the guise of `straightening' it) … what else?

 

Well, she figured that sunglasses would disguise his eyes, not that they weren't fabulous. But she didn't think they even made contact lenses in that color, and they couldn't risk drawing attention to themselves. It was a given, of course, that there would be some stares, he was Sesshoumaru, after all, so the best Carol could do was to minimize the shock factor. Was there anything else that she could fix? The ears!

 

As a rule, people don't walk around with pointed ears. (Unless, of course, there's some sort of convention.)

 

“Hold on,” said Carol. She pulled his hair over the ears as best she could, so that only the lower halves of them showed. Some people did wear their ponytails like that. Yes. Thank goodness for Sesshoumaru's thick fabulous hair.

 

“Now?” said Cindy.

 

“Yes, I suppose. You can call Chad to pick us—“

 

A horn honked.

 

“Whoo! Chad's here!” said Cindy, flailing her arms for no good reason.

 

“How did you—never mind.” Carol really didn't want to know. “Come on.” They marched down the stairs.

 

Chad was Cindy's older brother and he had a car. Sort of. It was more like a loosely connected pile of gears with an engine in front and a pair of worm-eaten fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. (The dice made it cool, according to Chad. It should be mentioned that there may have, in fact, been something wrong with Chad. This does not come entirely as a surprise.) Anyway, it was the bane of small animals everywhere, Chad's car, although it was a small miracle that it could go fast enough to actually hit them. It also ate gas like some people eat potato chips. (That is, by the truckload.)

 

Sesshoumaru stared at it, sniffing the air in disgust. The car backfired several times, sending clouds of black exhaust fumes into the sky. Something under the hood rattled. A bird pooped on the windshield.

 

“Who's the …” Chad paused for a moment, “guy?” Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed.

 

“Hey-hooo yeah, what a jokester, Chad is. Hee. Always joking. Always. Heh. With the joking. Yeah. This is,” Crap, she hadn't thought of this, “um… My cousin. My cousin Franklin. From Newbridge. That's in Rhode Island. Yes.” Carol didn't know if there was a Newbridge, Rhode Island, but she was banking on the fact that Chad didn't either.

 

“Franklin?” Cindy mouthed. Carol elbowed her.

 

“Oh. Cool. Come on.” Chad shrugged.

 

“Shotgun!” yelled Cindy, diving into the passenger seat.

 

“Don't get glitter all over it, this time, alright?” Beat up as it was, the car was Chad's baby.

 

“It's to confuse the seat gremlins!”

 

“Whatever, just don't—“ As they argued, Carol and Sesshoumaru slid into the backseat.

 

“Buckle your seatbelt,” Carol whispered, “here,” she helped him snap it in place, “You'll thank me for this later, trust me.”

 

“Ph34R the Gremlins!” Cindy was shouting; she was the only person Carol knew who could actually vocalize netspeak.

 

“Listen, we haven't got much time, but before we go I should warn you,” Carol went on, as quietly as she could manage, “you don't have cars back in your world, I guess, but its similar to …I dunno a horse and carriage? Only without the horses,” She wasn't making any sense, but she didn't know a thing about feudal Japan, really. Particularly Inu-Yasha style feudal Japan. Had they even addressed this issue in the show? She couldn't remember. Sesshoumaru looked at her as though she had gone insane. “Uh, yeah, and Chad, well, he's not—“

 

And they were off. It should, at this point, be mentioned that even New York cabbies were disturbed by Chad's driving. Upon seeing his car screaming down the street (or, on one very memorable occasion, sidewalk) people tended to think that he was on some sort of homicidal rampage and sought to contact the appropriate authorities. Carol couldn't believe that he still had his license. Perhaps he didn't.

 

Sesshoumaru clawed the seats as they headed straight for an elderly woman carrying what looked suspiciously like an explosive device. Said elderly woman was already being pursued by a troop of angry looking gentlemen in black uniforms. She didn't seem at all phased by the metal death-machine careening towards her.

 

Neither, in fact, did Chad. He was too busy yelling at Cindy about glitter. Cindy had her fingers in her ears and was loudly humming `Yankee Doodle'.

 

“Um…guys?” said Carol, eyes locked on the old lady. No response. “Guys?”

 

The old lady got ever closer.

 

Some of the men in black were talking into headphones.

 

“The road, Chad!”

 

“—on my seats Cindy! Always on my seats!” he yelled, gesturing emphatically with both hands. The car swerved and Carol felt her stomach lurch.

 

“The wheel!”

 

“Oh yeah. And you got it all over the wheel too, Lucinda Anne!”

 

“Take the wheel Chad!” A tree approached from the left, out of nowhere.

 

“Yes, yes,” he waved her off, putting his knee on it. The car reeled to the right, like some drunken Cabaret dancer.

 

“Ahhh!” yelled Carol. There was that old lady again! Carol could just barely hear the package in the old woman's hands ticking over the deafening roar of the engine.

 

Sesshoumaru was plastered to the seat, holding on for dear life.

 

Carol braced herself for the impact.

 

The old woman, horrifyingly, started to run toward the car.

 

“Running! Why is she running?” said Carol, and all the while her mind was chorusing: We're gonna die, we're gonna die and Chad will still be going on about the glitter, and WE'RE GONNA HIT THAT OLD LADY!

 

Just before the inevitable impact, the old woman tucked the package under her left arm and leapt into the air. She somersaulted over the car, using the hood as a springboard. Cackling, she sped off into the woods, all the while being pursued by the men in black. A few moments later, a loud explosion ensued, but Carol couldn't hear it over the death metal that blared on the radio.

 

Cindy was still singing `Yankee Doodle', trying to drown out the death metal, and Chad kept cranking the radio up louder and louder.

 

Cindy's family had a particularly noisy way of not speaking to each other.

 

“What was it you were trying to say before, Carol?” Chad yelled.

 

“Never mind!” Her nerves had left her somewhere around the amazing feats of the acrobatic old lady.

 

The rest of the way was uneventful enough, as far as driving in Chad's death-bucket went. They hit three squirrels, two badgers, and grazed a small child. (Its parents were apparently going to file a lawsuit. “Good luck with that,” said Chad, not unkindly; he already had more than a few pending.) They took out seven mailboxes and a power line, a personal best for Chad. They also got into a fender-bender, which wasn't entirely Chad's fault, for once. But we won't go into that.

 

By the time they arrived at the mall parking lot, Sesshoumaru felt that several hundred years had been shaved off of his life. He stumbled shaken from the car, followed by a jittery Carol. Cindy was completely unfazed. (Indeed, she would likely become a similar road hazard, at some point, assuming they even let her behind the wheel after all of Chad's infractions.)

 

“Solid ground,” sighed Carol. “How I missed you!” Driving with Chad had always been an experience. Each time, after getting out of the car (either on her own, or with police assistance), she promised herself that she'd never do it again.

 

Sesshoumaru, at least, seemed to have composed himself. She remembered her first ride with Chad, back when he'd just acquired his license… She hadn't been able to eat solid food for a week. That mailman must've gotten out of the hospital by now, right? She didn't know that the same could be said of the poor hot-dog vendor.

 

Okay, she thought, as they walked away from the still-cooling car, one obstacle down. You can do this, Carol. Operation: Take Sesshoumaru Out in Public Without Bringing Down Western Society as We Know It went off without a hitch thus far. Pretty much, anyway. You can do this.

 

Cindy bounced along, whistling and twiddling the Cauliflower of Infinite Wisdom, her quarrel with Chad forgotten.

 

“Dammit Cindy!” They heard Chad scream from behind them, “You got glitter on the seats again!”

 

Alright, almost forgotten.