Picture this: a peaceful country village with thatched cottages lining the cobblestone streets, the respectful townspeople going about their business in a friendly and cheerful way. Presumably, you think that the citizens are human but they are not, they're Patty Pan People. Patty Pan People are just like us from the neck down but their heads are cupcakes, their faces are made of lollies and their hair is cream cheese icing. Their - or what we call a - brain is the soft, fluffy sponge cake in the middle, which could explain the events in this story...
The story begins on the night of the annual Squashing Scream, a few years ago. Every year one Patty Pan Person is deprived of their hair by the evil were-cat which haunts the village on the night of the Squashing Scream.
Quentin wished her friends a happy Squashing Scream and walked home from her job at the hair-salon just as the sun was setting. In her joyful frame of mind she forgot to hang up her Philadelphia cream cheese packets to ward off the cat. Consequently, as she got ready for bed the cat lurked stealthily around her house waiting for her to fall asleep.
"Ooh, what an awful dream I had last night," said Quentin to her pet Guinea Pig when she woke the next morning. "I dreamt that this year the evil were-cat came and licked MY hair off ... and ate my sprinkle decoration!"
"SQUEAK! SQUEAK!" squeaked her Guinea Pig frantically ... but not understanding she went downstairs to get ready.
After her breakfast she put on her favourite outfit and twirled around in front of the mirror...
"Aaaah!" she screamed, "my hair is gone! It wasn't a dream! I was the victim of the Squashing Scream Were-cat!" and she burst into uncontrollable tears.
Quite a while later after she had regained her composure she decided that she would go to the hair-salon and get some hair extensions before work. Feeling much happier, she headed off to work.
Everyone at the hair-salon felt very sorry for her and even offered to do her hair extensions for free. But when they went to get the cream cheese icing they found, to their dismay, that they had run out! Quentin's friend Maria telephoned the Icing Factory but they didn't have any either.
"Maybe the cat was still starving after it licked my hair so it went to the factory for more icing," suggested Quentin, but no one thought that likely.
Dolefully Quentin took up her position behind the counter at reception and thought about how she could get some more hair.
"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Quentin around noon. "I'll go and pay Mixer Morris a visit at the factory," and that she did.
Unfortunately for Quentin, the people on the bus weren't as sympathetic as the hairdressers. She was only on the first step when the bus driver grumbled "Get off me bus! Where's ya hair? Being seen in public without ya hair is a disgrace! Get off me bus!"
Then the passengers chimed in "It's a disgrace, A DISGRACE..." they agreed.
"You know how it was the Squashing Scream last night" said one, "I bet her hair was taken then!"
"She might still be haunted by the were-cat," offered another.
"Get off me bus!" the grouchy bus driver snarled.
So poor Quentin had a long, and embarrassing, walk to the icing factory which was on the outskirts of town.
Eventually Quentin arrived at the factory but as soon as she opened the door she knew something was wrong.
CLUG CLUG EEEEEEEK! CLUG EEK EEK EEK RUMBLE RUMBLE! CLUG CLUG EEEEEEEK!
"What funny noises the machines are making," Quentin muttered to herself. "I'd better investigate!"
She peered around the gloomy factory, when she saw Mixer Morris she knew something was wrong with him too.
"Hello... Qqqquentin," he stuttered, "I ccan't ... do anything at a ccccconsistent rate. Cccan you ... please help ... me and the mmmachines?"
"Sure and I think I know what the problem is; you've lost your rhythm! If I help you to get your rhythm back you could stir the main whisk. The other machines could follow you and hey presto everyone is in time again!" Quentin enthusiastically replied, "let's start straight away!"
But unfortunately this was easier said than done.
Morris and Quentin thought hard.
"What about," suggested Morris "I learn a rhythmical dance and stir to it?"
"Good idea, I'll teach you a foxtrot. Slow quick quick, slow quick quick. See, easy" demonstrated Quentin, dancing around the machines.
Morris finally got the hang of the very basic rhythm!
"Gosh Quentin that was difficult, my spongy brain couldn't keep up!"
Quentin crossed her fingers as Morris nervously walked over to the main mixer and grabbed hold of the whisk. Heaving really hard, Morris got the whisk moving to his rhythm. Slowly the other machines joined in too; going from eek eek rumble clug clug to rumble clug clug (slow quick quick) rumble clug clug (slow quick quick).
As Morris let go of the mixer he gave a sigh of relief.
"Oh Quentin! Thank you so so much. You have saved my factory and helped all the hair-salons and their hairdressers in all the nearby towns. I cannot express how grateful I am in words ... but please accept this gift card for your hair salon as a token of my gratitude. Your help has meant more to me than being visited by Patty Pan royalty. Thank you!"
"Before I go there is something that you can do for me in return. Do you have any spare icing that I can use for my hair temporarily, so that I can get a bus ride home? It's getting quite late."
"I would like to say yes but all I can offer you is some of my hair!" and he wiped some of his own hay coloured hair onto Quentin's head in a rather bedraggled arrangement.
"I'm very sorry that my hairstyling skills are incompetent but it should serve the purpose," he apologised.
"It doesn't bother me at all and I am very appreciative of your help. Thank you and I hope to see you tomorrow with the delivery!"
The next morning Quentin skipped happily into work. She handed over the gift card and explained her story from the day before. Shortly after she finished speaking, ding, dong! the doorbell rang. "That'll be Mixer Morris with our cream cheese icing" said Quentin running excitedly towards the door.
"Aaah, Quentin, just the person I was hoping to see" started Morris, "I have enclosed a small amount of emerald dye with the icing delivery. I thought the colour would look nice in your new hairstyle!"
"Why thank you Morris. I love the colour! I shall be today's first customer!" said Quentin with a blush.
At the end of the day she emerged from the salon with a beautifully stylish emerald green swirl and a grin on her face. She was so pleased that she had her hair back. That evening she promised her pet Guinea Pig she would never forget to hang up her Philadelphia packets on the night of the Squashing Scream again...
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