By: Tamanna T., Staff Writer
It had been 47 days since I had seen sunlight. An even 34 and a half days had passed since my human companion Alexa dropped me in West Mall Centre, and I, a poor scrunchie, had been suffering in this ghastly washroom. I heard unimaginable things, saw someone eat a whole lunch, and witnessed booty calls and dirty talks through the mouths of people I shall not name. You would think people would be more cautious during a pandemic, but horniness overcomes reason, apparently.
I was pretty optimistic the first few days, believing in Alexa’s love, but, alas! She probably replaced me with the crying Kim Kardashian scrunchie she had been wanting.
When was the last time humans considered the scrunchie’s plight? We provide support to countless people’s hair, epitomize VSCO girl style, and yet the moment we disappear off a wrist, we are instantly forgotten. Alexa probably felt the same, which is why she did not return. I guess meme scrunchies are better looking . . . Humans always favour looks over quality.
I was just a simple velvet scrunchie in a beautiful, dark, forest green colour, yearning for meaning in life, when I heard someone walk into the washroom.
“My hair is a rat’s nest! Today, of all days!” the girl exclaimed, clearly distressed. “My professor is a tyrant, and she won’t let me enter the lab without my hair tied up. Sara, what am I going to do? Class starts in five minutes! Can you look through your bag again? Maybe you’ll find a stray hair band lying in there somewhere, please?”
Her friend frantically searched for anything that would help tame the girl’s messy hair. She looked like she was about to cry. Did they realise I was right there on the ground? If they looked right by the sink, they would see me.
Hope filled my thoughts . . . desperation to get out of this wretched bathroom was all I could think of. I prayed to every scrunchie deity that they notice me and give me a better home than these cold tiles. Just as I wondered about my fate and my future, Sara looked down and stared directly at me before yelling, “Look what I just found! It’s your lucky day, Jess!” and grabbed me off the floor.
“A dirty scrunchie off the ground?! Ew!” the girl replied.
How dare she? I commend myself on being as clean as scrunchie-ly possible, I thought in response.
“Look, it’s your only option. Do you want to get screamed at by the prof? I assume not, so pick it up, wash it, and use it for today!” Sara seemed to be the smarter one of the duo, but I hoped Jess wouldn’t discard me after one use.
“I guess you’re right. I’ll wash it and then put some sanitizer on it just to be safe. It is a pretty scrunchie, and green is my favourite colour after all.” Has the stench of the washrooms confused me to believe that this girl, Jess, will take me home with her, fulfilling my purpose in this world?
Jess gave me a quick shower and doused me in sanitizer (which made me gag, but anything to be in another home)! Then, she tied her hair up with my help. Walking towards class, I sensed the relief from this girl who saved me from an eternity in a dirty bathroom. If it wasn’t for me, this girlboss’ hair would have caused havoc in the lab and some chemicals were bound to spill. This scrunchie just became the hero of the century!
