lotrelves.

“Oh my, that is horrible,” Galinda flustered.

“Yes. It. Is.”

“You may want to leave the country,” she continued.

“I may do.”

“Give yourself a new name. . . .”

“I shall.”

“And grow a beard . . . ?”

“I can’t grow a beard, dipstick. I’m a girl, remember?”

“I’m just suggesting . . . stuff. . . .”

Nessarose shook her head. Galinda obviously didn’t understand the tragedy that having a bad hair day was.

“I’m sorry," Galinda said, "I’m just having trouble concentrating when your hair’s in my mouth.”