Go Team!

GO TEAM! by Shornlocks

For two years in a row, the Mount Pleasant High School boys basketball team and girls cheerleading squad had each won the State championships. This year was shaping up to be no different, with the basketball team unbeaten after 22 games, and the cheerleaders exhibiting the same energy and precision movements that had last year blown away the competition.

It was hard, therefore, to muster up much enthusiasm for Friday night’s regular season finale against the lowly Jefferson High Tigers. Jefferson’s record was 3-19, and there didn’t figure to be much of a crowd in the stands for the game because, apart from it being the start of February vacation, everyone was looking past this game and toward the beginning of the post-season tournament.

Even the faculty moderator of the cheerleading squad, Mrs. Edson, had given her girls the option of performing at the game or not. Mrs. Edson would be at the game anyway because her son was Mount Pleasant’s point guard, and she told the girls that if they decided to show up, she would help them through their normal routines.

Candy Morrissey, the captain of the cheerleaders, felt strongly that it was her squad’s obligation to cheer the team on during their last game, even if all indications were that it was going to be yet another blowout of Jefferson High (Mount Pleasant last year had beaten Jefferson 77-36!). Besides, Candy didn’t want her girls resting on their laurels; her squad’s routine looked good to the untrained spectators in the stands, but to Candy’s trained eye they weren’t anywhere near the kind of shape they’d need to be in if they were going to capture a third State championship. The girls on the squad moaned when Candy voted to attend the Jefferson game, but not wanting to go against their captain, most of them grudgingly agreed that they’d travel to Jefferson to see the basketball team through their final regular season game. At least they’d have a week off before the start of the post-season tournament.

The annual trip to Jefferson High was always the worst one of the season for the cheerleaders from Mount Pleasant. In contrast to the wealthy suburb in which Mount Pleasant was located, Jefferson was an inner city school with by far the highest drop- out rate in the conference. Whereas Mount Pleasant girls would venture on to elite schools like Wellesley, Mount Holyoke, and Vassar, the Jefferson girls would be lucky just to keep from getting pregnant before graduating. In keeping with the trash that they were, the Jefferson cheerleaders had become very rude toward the end of last year’s game with Mount Pleasant, sometimes leading the angry Jefferson crowd in obscene chants as Mount Pleasant kicked their team’s butt all over the court. Some of the Jefferson girls had even followed the Mount cheerleaders outside after the game and challenged them to fights!

Despite the unpleasantness of the trip, the Mount cheerleaders filed into Jefferson’s gym just as both basketball teams were beginning their warmups. Mrs. Edson wasn’t there yet, but the cheerleaders were greeted by Frances DeLuccia, a tough looking Italian girl who was Jefferson’s cheerleading captain. Frances extended her arm and shook Candy’s hand, welcoming the Mount cheerleaders, and apologizing for her squad’s behavior following last year’s game. Frances admitted that her cheerleaders had displayed poor sportsmanship last year, but said they had matured a lot since then, and were looking forward to watching the talented Mount squad perform the routine that had garnered them two State championships in as many years. Sufficiently impressed with Frances’ respect for her and her squad, Candy nodded her head and began walking toward the room where last year she and her squad had changed into their outfits.

“Wait,” said Frances. “That room is being renovated. It’s a real mess in there. Follow me and I’ll show you a better place where you can change into your outfits.” Not suspecting anything, the Mount cheerleaders followed Frances up a long flight of stairs and into a large room off the balcony overlooking the basketball court. The room was pitch dark, and Frances was nervously running her hands along the wall in search of the light switch. After being certain that all five of the visiting cheerleaders were in the room, Frances flicked on the light switch and filled the room with dazzling, bright light. Before the Mount Pleasant cheerleaders even knew what was happening, more than a dozen figures leaped from the shadows, roughly grabbing at them from behind, tying their hands and forcing rags into their mouths to keep them from screaming. The girls from Pleasant recognized their captors as the Jefferson cheerleaders, along with some Jefferson boys, many of whom reeked of beer and hard liquor. Several of the boys were laughing as the Jefferson cheerleaders were struggling to subdue their guests, but jumped to their assistance when Frances glared at them with a menacing stare.

Caught by surprise, the five girls that comprised the Mount Pleasant cheerleading succumbed with hardly a whimper. Within moments each had been tied to one of five straight-backed chairs that had been arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. For the first time, Candy noticed that not only had the room’s shades been drawn, but dark electrical tape had been put around them to prevent even the slightest hint of light from escaping to the outside. Seeing the fear etched on the faces of her cheerleaders, Candy tried to speak first through the rag tied tightly around the middle of her head.

“Waaathith? Thummkiddajokk! Tak thith oth me now!”

Frances chuckled at the struggling Candy. “Shut up sister, you aint goin nowhere. You and your little bitches here are gonna learn just how much we f*ckin hate you. For years you and your kind have been comin here with your perfect hair and perfect teeth, looking down your snooty noses at us cuz our mummies and dadies actually have to WORK for a living! I remember the look of fear in your faces last year when we challenged you to a fight! Poooor wiiiittle Mount Pleasant girls actually had to call the security guards to keep us from kicking your asses. HA! You people make me sick. I promise you that, after tonite, you’ll wish we had kicked your asses instead of what we have planned for you!

As Frances spoke, one of the Jefferson cheerleaders who had been guarding the door said “Quiet! The game’s about to begin! Dim those lights a little so I can keep the door open a crack.”

Frances complied, and turning to her captives stated: “We’ll be safe here. With such a small crowd expected for the game, they’ve closed off this balcony, and most of the janitor staff are off now anyway cuz of vacation. No one knows we’re here, and you girls will soon be wishing you weren’t either!”

At this, Frances lifted a pile of white sheets from off a table, exposing a pair of long, wicked looking scissors and a pair of electric clippers on a long extension cord. Frances gave the pile of sheets to the nearest Jefferson cheerleader, who in turn took one and passed on the rest. When each of the seven Jefferson cheerleaders had a sheet, they each proceeded to wrap it around the neck of one of the Mount girls tied in the chairs. The shock of what was happening sent shivers through the spines of the captive girls; shivers which registered in their eyes as looks of fear and anger.

“No one at the game is gonna miss any of us,” began Frances. “We know that Mrs. Edson gave you guys the night off, if you wanted it, and our moderator banned us from the game tonight because of the problems after last year’s game. You were stupid to come here! You were stupid to think that we would put up again with your snooty remarks and your condescending attitudes. But, you came here for a game, and we’re sure as hell gonna give you one!”

Standing behind the seated Lisa, one of the taller Mount cheerleaders with stunningly long and beautiful chestnut brown hair, Frances addressed herself to the rest of her captives seated in the large circle. “The rules of this game are as follows. For every point your team scores, one of you loses some hair. We’ll start with the lovely Lisa here. At the rate your team’s been scoring lately, ole Lisa outta be pretty much bald five minutes after the opening tip off!” Then we’ll move on to little Wendy here. Wendy, with her cute little oriental features and her shiny jet black hair… Won’t it be fascinating to watch her hair fall, cut by cut, all over her white cape? Then we’ll continue on around the circle, cutting off lock after lock of your precious hair! You’d better PRAY your team doesn’t run up the score like they did last year!”

From down below the girls could hear the announcer as he finished introducing the teams’ starting lineups. The tipoff (or should I say clipoff?) was about to begin! Frances flicked on a small battery powered radio and tuned it to WMPH, Mount Pleasant High’s campus radio station. Although Mount Pleasant was twenty minutes away, the station was strong enough to be heard here at Jefferson. “Isn’t it ironic,” Francis said, “that while Jefferson could never afford to operate a radio station here on campus, it will be your own beloved WMPH that keeps us informed as to how much of your hair will hit the floor tonight!”

Frances and the other Jefferson girls grew silent as the radio announcer began calling the tipoff…

Mount Pleasant controls the tipoff… Rogers swings it out to Withers on the right… Withers finds Davis under the hoop and IN!

As if on cue, the tough looking Hispanic girl responsbile for Lisa’s haircut grabbed a fistful of the beautiful, flowing mane covering Lisa’s right ear and… Snnnnnip!… Snnnnnip! eighteen inches of soft, chestnut brown gold separated themselves from Lisa’s head! Lisa’s barber looked with disdain at the shorn locks for a moment, then raised her arm and let the cut hair float ever so slowly down into Lisa’s lap. Just as the hair was completing its descent, the radio announcer’s voice came to life…

Jefferson takes the ball up court… Roe dishes it to Scott… Scott flips it to… STOLEN! the ball is stolen by Ames… Ames alley-oops it to Withers and Withers puts it HOME!

Snnnnnip!… Snnnnnip! Two more hanks of Lisa’s hair meet their fate and lie listlessly in the Jefferson girl’s hand. The girl is about to throw the new additions into Lisa’s lap when…

Jefferson inbounds the ball… STOLEN AGAIN by Mount!… the dishoff to Davis in the paint and IN!

Snnnnnip!… Snnnnnip! The Hispanic girl has now reached the back of Lisa’s head, her clenched fist brimming with Lisa’s stunning, silky locks.

GET COMFORTABLE FOLKS!… this one’s already showing signs of a romp… Six-zip in favor of the Mounties, and we’re only ten seconds into this thing…

Lisa’s barber waits to hear that the ball has passed halfcourt before dumping the contents of her sweaty fist into Lisa’s lap. Lisa’s head and shoulders are now shaking, gripped by her wracking sobs. Lisa knows there’s no hope for the rest of her wonderful mane… Mount Pleasant’s offense is just too strong… she knows, she’s been rooting and cheering them on all year…

Scott drives to the hoop, lays it up and IN! Jefferson gets on the board!…

Lisa knows it’s just a matter of moments before the long blades of the scissors shear off more of her precious hair. She imagines her team, the team whose success has been so much a part of her life the past two years, pushing the ball quickly upcourt, trying to get the ball into the hands of Mount’s 6’5″ center, Mike Withers…

Ricky Styles with the ball now for Mount Pleasant… he’s dribbling… passes off to Ames… now back to Styles… underneath to Withers, Withers with the power move and IN! Mike Withers just THREW the Jefferson defender off his back and jammed it home for an 8-2 Mountie lead!

Snnnnnnnnnnnip!… Snnnnnnnnnnnnnnip! These two hacks into Lisa’s shimmering tresses took more strength than any thus far. They succeeded in severing the back of Lisa’s mane, where it grew longest and thickest. Lisa heard her barber close the scissors around another small section of hair. “She’s cheating!,” Lisa thought, but than realized that no one cared. She was a fool to think that there were any rules to this sick little game. She knew now that this wonderfully long treasure of hers, this long rope of hair that looked and felt so good as it swung from side to side down her back, would end in a messy heap in her lap. She managed to block out the growing number of taunts aimed at her by the Jefferson girls by contemplating how she could style the few inches of hair that would remain after her turn was over.

Three more baskets by the Mount Pleasant team ended the ordeal for Lisa, or so she thought. More than 20 inches of her 2-foot long hair now lay in her lap. Even worse was the sight of strands of her previously gorgeous hair now pasted to her barber’s hands by sweat. As though reading Lisa’s mind, her barber grabbed a portion of the white sheet covering Lisa’s lap and wiped her hands on it, disrupting the hair heap and causing some of Lisa’s long cut locks to fall to the floor and out of Lisa’s sight.

Ames with the ball at the top of the key… he’s looking… looking… Ames drives to the hoop himself, lays it up and IN! FOUL! Ames is fouled by Scott! He’ll have a chance to go to the line and make it a 3-point play!

Lisa groaned at the thought that poor little Wendy, seated in the chair to her right, would have to endure three vicious cuts to her shiny black Asian hair. Lisa looked up from her lap, however, and saw that Frances was now handing Lisa’s barber the electric clippers. Seeing the surprise in Lisa’s eyes, Frances spat “You don’t think we’re gonna LEAVE you with any of that, do you?” HA HA Our fun has only begun my dear… Our fun has only begun! Did we forget to tell you that one snip of the scissors is equal to one trip of the clippers up and down your head! No? Oh… I’m soooooooory!”

Lisa jumped when the clippers buzzed to life near her left ear. The sound of the clippers made her stomach churn. She would have vomited were she not so afraid of choking on it because of the rag stuffed in her mouth. The clippers’ whirring blades were cold on the nape of her neck, but warmed as they began their ascent up the back of Lisa’s head. There was a slight change in the sound they made as the clippers reached the crown of her head. Within moments Lisa began seeing little chunks of hair wafting down before her eyes. They were four or five inches long, and Lisa knew they represented the last of the hair that remained on her head. These chunks did little to prepare her, however, for the torrent of chestnut brown rain that completely blocked her vision as each of the three trips of the clippers dumped mounds of shorter hair onto the bed of longer tresses already in her lap.

Lisa then blocked out everything. She didn’t hear the announcer proclaim Mount Pleasant’s next few baskets; didn’t even feel the now warm clipper blades scrape the hair from the sides of her head. All she knew, after her personal barber had flicked off the humming clippers and rubbed her bald head (for what, good luck?), was that her crowning glory was gone forever. Shane Tyler, Steve Richards and a host of other boys would no longer plunge their fists into it as they hammered themselves into her in the back seat of her father’s Taurus.

As Lisa contemplated this depressing prospect, the clippers were handed to Tanesha, a small but muscular black girl who had chosen the honor of sending the oriental Wendy’s locks to hell. Holding back the tears as best she could, Wendy’s gut churned inside her as she anticipated the first snipping sound of the cold steel blades near her ears.

“Frances?”

“Yes, Tanesha?”

“Do the rules allow for substitutions? I mean, could I choose to substitute one plow of the clippers for a snip with the scissors? I’d especially like to experiment with some of those plastic attachments over there.”

“Certainly, Tanesha. You’re in charge now. You use whatever tools you feel are necessary to do the job. I’m sure that whatever method you chose, little Wendy here will be equally satisfied with the result.”

“Thank you, Frances. Oh… one more thing. Do I have to use my turns with the clippers immediately after the points are scored, or could I save them up and use them all at once?”

“Again, Tanesha, it makes no difference. It’s your turn in the spotlight, and we’re all dying to see your work of art as it progresses.”

OK, we’re back from the Jefferson time out… Mount Pleasant has a lot of new faces on the court, giving their regulars a well-earned breather… Mount now with a full-court press… Jefferson coach Mike Walters screaming from the sidelines for his team to slow down the pace, force Mount to play more of Jefferson’s game…

Wendy breathed a small sigh of relief upon hearing that Mount’s second string had entered the game. Mount wouldn’t be scoring at the furious pace they had been until now. Wendy wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that she’d have a few more moments to spend with her hair; to sense its wonderful softness upon her ears and the nape of her neck. She knew the inevitability of its beginning to fall into her lap and onto her shoulders. She had experienced it a couple years ago when, in a fit of rage over her growing Americanization, her mother chopped off Wendy’s long locks into a severely short, boyish cut. It had grown out now to a length as long as her mother would allow, just brushing her shoulders. She knew how awkward it was to see the rich, dark blackness of her hair land on a soft white cape. After the episode with her mother, Wendy knew she never wanted to live through that again. Now, she knew she was going to have to.

Wendy sat motionless and counted up the points Mount Pleasant had scored since the passing of the clippers to Tanesha. 2…4…6…7…10 (a three point play)… With two minutes left in the half, Mount Pleasant scored their twelfth point, and Tanesha looked as though she had waited as long as she was going to. Watching Tanesha clip on the largest attachment available (a huge boat-looking thing which Wendy estimated, correctly, would leave her hair two inches long), Wendy hoped for a moment that her barber would be kinder than Lisa’s, and would leave her with at least a little hair to style.

The assault on Wendy’s hair began quickly and viciously. Tanesha, standing behind Wendy, took an empty waste basket and held it at the ready in her left hand as her right hand placed the clippers on Wendy’s forehead. Shearing slowly and with a purpose, Tanesha lopped off Wendy’s bangs, and eight inches of her ten-inch hair that lay on the crown of Wendy’s head. Tanesha let the accumulated hair fall gracefully into the waste basket before beginning another path with the clippers.

It took only two passes of the clippers to erase the hair from the center of Wendy’s small head. Subsequent plows of the clippers (3…4…5…6…) buzzed off the hair on both sides of her head.

With six plows left, and with more earned plows sounding inevitable due to some of Mount Pleasant’s regulars coming back into the game, Tanesha switched to a one-inch attachment and began to groom Wendy’s hair. The one-inch attachment left Wendy’s hair very spiky, much to the pleasure of Frances and the other Jefferson girls. Tanesha was no longer trying to catch the cut hair in the waste basket, instead letting the one- inch black snippets fall freely onto Wendy’s cape, where slowly but surely they began to hide the white cotton fabric.

According to the radio announcer, Mount Pleasant was now scoring freely, and Tanesha accelerated her efforts to rid Wendy’s head of all its hair. When the one-inch attachment had done all it could, Tanesha switched briefly to the 1/4 attachment. Then, realizing that she was running out of accumulated “points,” Tanesha turned the steel clipper blades loose on Wendy poor little head. By now there was little but waves of stubble flying off Wendy’s head and onto the cape. The cape was now almost totally black with tiny snippets of Wendy’s hair. After the final pass had left Wendy completely shorn, Tanesha flicked off the clippers and handed them to Jackie, whose job it would be to render hairless the next of the Mount cheerleaders, Sharon. Before turning the spotlight over to Jackie, however, Tanesha picked up the waste basket containing Wendy’s longer cut locks, stood before the now humble (not to mention BALD!) Wendy, and plunged her hand into the basket (coming up with a wonderful pile of shiny, jet black hair). “I’m BRAIDING this shit,” said Tanesha. “Girl, you just saved me a LOTTA money on hair extensions!”

When Jackie got the clippers, there were still two points that had not yet translated into falling hair. Jackie jumped at the opportunity to use them by taking the clippers, inverting them, and taking off the cute little bangs that had served as drapes on Sharon’s forehead. The bangs floated softly down into Sharon’s lap, where they waited for the Mount Pleasant boys to score some more points so that more of their blond brethren could join them.

The points were slow in coming. The Jefferson defense was actually beginning to slow down Mount’s run-and-gun offense, and as a result, only the occasional swath of Sharon’s long blond hair would be shorn loose from her scalp by the humming clippers.

It wasn’t until the end of the third quarter that Mount went on an eight-point run, and Sharon’s spun gold began hitting the cape and floor with regularity. Wave after wave of aromatic hair would fall, its length and softness causing the bulk of it to slide off the cape and onto the floor below. Wanting Sharon to enjoy the full effect, Jackie would occasionally stoop down, grab a fistful of it, and place it neatly in the pouch of Sharon’s lap, where Sharon could gaze on it with the same admiration she must have had when standing before the mirror brsuhing it.

The last of Sharon’s hair became history just as the third quarter came to a close. “Wow,” said Frances, “there may be hope for you yet, Candy!” There’s two of you left, and Jefferson really seems to have found the key to shutting down your offense!”

Defense or no defense, Laurie, the next in line to get sheared, knew that the start of the fourth quarter was always a period of heavy scoring for Mount Pleasant. Watching these monsters from Jefferson shear three of her friends bald, she now accepted the fact that these red curls of hers were going to join the carnage already on the floor. She only hoped her fate would come quickly so as to get it over with.

Well, it didn’t. Jefferson’s team fought like they hadn’t done all year. They blocked several of Mount’s shots, including a couple by the 6’5″ Withers. Bored by the delay between Mount baskets, Barbara (Laurie’s personal barber) kept herself occupied by slicing off individual red ringlets, and dropping them into Laurie’s lap. For fun in between baskets, Barbara would take two of the shorn ringlets and do a little physics experiment she learned at Jefferson. Standing behind Laurie, Barbara would rest one of her arms on each of Laurie’s shoulders, take a shorn curl in each hand, and at the same time release them down the sliding slope of Laurie’s budding breasts to see which one would arrive in her lap first. Barbara had recalled that an object with greater weight would always arrive first, though it was hard to tell from this rather limited experiment.

With only four minutes remaining in the game, and with Mount ahead by a score of only 67-63, Barbara was getting nervous that she would not have the opportunity to send large piles of Laurie’s red curls crashing to the floor. Feeling somewhat inferior to her Jefferson pals already, Barbara certainly didn’t want to be the only one unable to shear her victim completely. Switching to the electric clippers when Mount Pleasant pulled ahead 74-68, Barbara used her seven new “points” to radically shave the mop of ringlets from Laurie’s head. Saving them to use all at once, Barbara let loose with a veritable shaving orgy that left her practically gasping for air afterward. In just seconds she reduced Laurie’s pile of curls to stubble, and in the process saw clearly that that weighty mounds of hair that she’d send flying to the floor did, in fact, arrive there much quicker than the little individual ringlets she had snipped off earlier. Hell, not only had this experience been erotic, it was educational too!

While all this was going on, an interesting situation was arising with respect to Candy. There was now only a minute left in the game, and Mount Pleasant was ahead, by only three points. While Candy now felt confident that much of her hair would be saved, thanks to Jefferson’s ability to shut down the Mount Pleasant offense, she feared that even one more point by Mount Pleasant could result in her Jefferson barber taking the clippers and plowing a single bald path down the middle of her forehead, essentially ruining any attempts she might make at salvaging a presentable haircut from this whole ordeal.

Listening intently as the radio announcer set the stage for what could be the biggest upset in schoolboy basketball history, Candy virtually choked with tension every time Mount had the ball in the Jefferson zone. Mount launched several shots at the Jefferson basket, hoping to add to their three point lead. But their shooting had gone cold. In one sequence, Mount put up six shots at the basket, continuing to pound Jefferson on the boards and snatch away rebounds, but still couldn’t get a single one to roll in!

Candy was ecstatic! If two months ago someone had told Candy that she would be rooting against Mount Pleasant in what had become the toughest game of their season, Candy would have said that person was crazy. Tonite, however, it was looking both like Mount Pleasant would squeak out a victory, AND Candy would be able to keep all her hair! With the game clock down to ten seconds, Candy listened more intently than ever. Her Jefferson captors, particularly Frances their captain, whose job (and pleasure) it would be to plow even a single path down the middle of her nemesis’ head, listened just as intently…

Roe brings the ball upcourt for Jefferson… nine seconds left on the clock… Roe still has it… now flips it to Scott at the top of the key… down to six seconds on the clock… Scott flips it back to Roe… he’ll have to hurry… clock down to three seconds… Roe fiddles, diddles… Roe gets away from his defender, he puts up a shot from waaaaay out and… and… IT’S GOOD! IT’S GOOD! I CAN”T BELIEVE IT! REGGIE ROE HAS LAUCHED A THREE POINT SHOT TO SEND THIS GAME INTO

O V E R T I M E !!!

Candy’s heart sank. Around her all her Jefferson captors erupted, overjoyed at the prospect that this sheep shearing was far from over! The queen sheep of them all, that prissy little bitch Candy, would certainly not escape this ordeal unscathed!

While there a brief time out on the court to reset the clock, Frances revved up the clippers one last time, oiling them and knocking out the snippets of shorn hair from the previous “sheep,” getting them ready for their plunge into the mother of all mops… Candy’s HUGE head of long brown hair. The sheer amount of hair on this girl’s head was amazing. It looked like a f*ckin Dolly Parton wig for Chrissake! Frances wasn’t too optimistic that she’d have a chance to plow it ALL off, but she felt certain that she’d have at least have one chance to feel the powerful clippers part the waters of the sea that was Candy’s hair! Candy, whose perfect white teeth were now chattering with fear… whose delicate skin was now pale with horror… Candy, who had always felt that her wealth and background put her in the driver’s seat, now knew very well that even a single point by her beloved Mount Pleasant basketball team could ruin her life forever!

Frances, whose normally cool demeanor made her the unspoken leader of all her social circles, was now giddy as a schoolgirl at the prospect that one electrifying plunge of the clippers would even the score with her Mount Pleasant nemesis.

It turned out that Frances would have more than one opportunity to part Candy’s hair with the clippers. In fact, Frances would proceed to part it again and again as the Mount Pleasant team’s clearly superior talent blew the game wide open in the opening minutes of overtime. The Mounties could do no wrong, as shot after shot swished through the basket, dashing any hopes of a Jefferson upset. With each Mount basket, Frances would plunge her fingers into the mass of Candy’s hair, lifting it up so that the steaming clippers blades could burrow underneath, chewing and spitting out thick snippets of hair as Candy’s longer, flowing locks rolled off her head and onto the floor. Frances, her forearms covered in Candy’s brown glory, lost all control as she pushed, pulled and plunged the clippers into Candy’s quickly disappearing mane.

When it was over (both the game and the haircut), everyone in the room (Jefferson and Mountie alike) surveyed the scene. Five girls, not a single tear left in any of them, tied to chairs, their formerly clean, flowing locks now piled in dark, lifeless heaps at their feet. Frances, coming down from the orgasmic ecstasy of watching Candy’s head come naked under the force of the clippers, picked up the small black telephone in the far corner of the room. “Maintenance? There’s quite a mess up here in room 210. You may want to send up some men with dustpans and a garbage barrel. Never mind who I am, just get up here and attend to this mess!”

Frances hung up the phone and quickly gathered up any evidence that she and her girls had been here. While Frances was on the phone with Maintenance, the other Jefferson cheerleaders were taking the capes off each of their victims, purposely flicking the sheets in such a way as to send huge torrents of hair flying toward the middle of the circle, where the five victim’s locks landed in a pitiful heap of mingled, colorful hair..

As the Jefferson girls headed quickly toward the door, Frances turned back toward the five bald girls, and said: I guess you girls were right all along, Mount really IS the best team!”

 

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