A/N: Once again, I think on a whim, and this story's done in 10 minutes. Voila.
Ino's hair... is much too long. Then she cut it. Then she let it grow long. So, I really can't tell when this takes place, but it's AU. Maybe... they're 16?
Whatever. Enjoy! XD
I don't own Naruto. Or a hair straightener.
Oh, the Woes of Long Hair
"Ino, hurry up!" A car horn honked outside, and I fumbled with my mascara brush, dabbing some on my cheek accidentally.
"Darn it, Choji! I'm workin' on it!" I screeched. I could hear him mutter about girls and their make up, but I couldn't care less.
After washing off the smudge, I faced my biggest problem yet—
I loved it, cared for it, the whole deal. But I held a terrible secret.
First, I unwrapped the towel clinging onto my damp just-from-the-shower hair, which was a dark blond color now. Time to change that…
I pumped some pre-dry hair gloss into my palm, running it through my hair with a comb. Without this, I would die. Well, my hair would, anyway.
Pulling out my trusty blow dryer, I got to work. I had a lot of hair to dry, and not a lot of time to dry it in.
The steady hum of the motor put me into a habitual state. I did this every morning, every day of the week. How exciting.
Finishing up, I pushed it into the dark abyss which is my cabinet underneath the sink, which was filled to the brim with clutter.
My hair was curled, waved, and a bit poofy when I finish drying it. Say hello to my hair straightener.
The hot steam billowing out singed my eyes a bit, but I ignored it. Soon, my hair had that sheen that everyone was envious of at school.
Next was my hair protectant. It kept the odds and ends from sticking out, as well as the fly-aways.
I checked the clock. 13 minutes! Already?
I threw that bottle to an unused corner of my bathroom, and fished out a styling brush. After running that through my blond tresses, I searched high and low for my frizz control spray, but I couldn't find it!
"Darn it, Keko! You better not have my frizz spray, you little zit!"
I rushed off to my little brother's room, disregarding the now frantic car horn outside. I knew Choji was impatient, but this…?
Yep. I found the blue bottle in his closet, along with my spare hair scrunchie and a few tank tops. What is he, a cross-dressing klepto?
I only had a few minutes left, so I hurriedly spritzed my hair, and styling it to perfection. Throwing in one last accessory (my favorite pink hair clip), I dropped everything and ran out of the bathroom, forgetting to turn the light off. Sorry, mom…
Grabbing my coat, I leaped out the door into the garage, and saw Choji's red minivan slowly pulling out of the drive.
"Oh, hell no!" I ran, pushing my legs to run faster, all the way down the driveway in record time. I was just about to jump onto the hood of the van, when Choji suddenly stopped the car.
"What the…?" He was—laughing?
"Hahaha, we got you! Ahaha, Ino, you should've… ha, seen your face!" Sakura was there too, laughing her head off. My other friend Shikamaru looked bored, as always. He didn't seem in on the joke.
Slowly, I pieced together everything, and came to the conclusion that they weren't actually going to leave me behind.
"GRRRR!" I practically howled with rage, ripping open the car door and hauling Choji right out of his driver seat, seat belt and all.
Sakura looked impressed.
"Sorry, sorry, Ino! We didn't mean it! Honestly! Can't you take a joke?" I shook him maniacally. He stopped pleading. I was about to yell at him that women actually have feelings, when I noticed a strange, yet familiar, tickling feeling on my head…
I saw where Choji's eyes were (along with Sakura and Shikamaru's eyes) looking, and froze.
Oh. My. God.
I dropped the fat lard I call my friend to the ground, and rushed to the van's side mirror.
My hair was alive.
I must have forgotten a step… no… I went over every product I put in my hair, but couldn't remember a single…!
"KEKOOOOO!!!!" That little meddling monster!! He switched out my hair frizz serum for a fake!
I ran to my house, my hair billowing out around me. I knew Choji was laughing, and I couldn't blame him. Whenever my hair frizzed in humid situations (meaning today—the psychrometer predicted 80 percent humidity), I looked like a clown on crack.
All my hard work, all my effort, all ruined! Stupid little brother… I will find you!
"…Ino?" I looked behind me, aware that I had stopped running and was now slumped on the floor in my garage. I was pathetic.
I croaked out, "What?" and I knew I sounded horrible. And looked horrible. Stupid garage lighting.
"Want to go to Dairy Queen?" Choji asked calmly. Since when did he know I loved ice cream when I was frizzed?
I pulled my sluggish, depressed body up to a standing position.
I walked to the van, and hopped in. Everything was silent. I think they were too busy staring at my hair.
A/N: That actually happened to me. The car thing, I mean. My friends were outside waiting for me to get ready, and when I ran out the door with my stuff, they were already pulling out of the driveway. Supposedly, I almost had a heart attack. They never let me live it down. Idiots.
Be my friend, give me advice, write me a nice review. Do I need to sic my German Shepherd on you?