Tacky and Upsetting
Sammy strode out on stage to a rapturous applause, punctuated by the odd giggle. The illfitting pirate’s hat slipped over one eye (the one without the eye patch) and the fake parrot strapped to his shoulder lost a feather as it slipped when he adjusted the hat.
‘Good evening, good evening, thank you so much for joining us for a very special edition of Girl’s Embarrassment. But remember -’ He cupped his ear and waited for the audience to respond:
“Don’t let your Mum know you watch it!”
‘Quite right. Now, we believe in equal opportunities, and when somebody wrote in to tell us that we’re too focussed on shaving white girl’s heads, well, we decided it was time to get with the modern era and diversify – I know, I know,’ he spread his palms, suddenly incredulous. ‘Girl’s Embarrassment has gone woke. It had to happen eventually. You’ll see what I mean soon but before we go any further, ladies and gentleman – please welcome – the world’s worst beautician – the wonderful Bea!’
She got an even bigger applause as she bounced onto the set, waving and winking, the winks exaggerated by her fishhook eyebrows and cleopatra eye make up.
As the clapping died down she looked Sammy up and down, obviously acting and not very well.
‘Alright there, Sammy?’ It was a greeting but her tone was more quizzical. ‘What’s with the fancy dress, mate?’
‘It’s a pirate outfit.’
‘I can see that. Why?’
‘Because tonight Bea, our two contestants are originally from Somalia. What’s Somalia known for? Pirates!’ He gestured at the plastic sword holstered to his belt. ‘This is my way of making them feel at ease.’
Theatrically, Bea slapped her forehead. ‘Wrong type of pirate Sammy.’
‘What do you mean?’ He sounded hurt.
‘You need to be a Somali Pirate, they wear flip flops and football shirts,’ she gave the hat a slight slap. ‘Not that.’
‘I don’t know.’ Sammy sighed. ‘You try and do something nice, and it’s thrown back in your face.’ He replaced the hang dog expression with an almost childishly excited one. ‘In that case, meet our wonderful contestants! Ramla and Haboon!’
The studio exploded with cheers and clapping again as the two girls walked out onto set. One was taller than the other with a big build, wearing all white with a white hijab with a red plastic flower stuck to the side.
The other, more petite one was in a figure hugging slim fit tracksuit with red bubble writing splashed across her reasonably large tits. The top was unzipped a quarter way down, showing a dainty gold loveheart necklace. Her hair hung down to her shoulders in loose black curls. She had obviously fake eyelashes on, and wore the expression of somebody who had a bad smell under her nose.
Sammy pushed the microphone into the hijabi’s face first. ‘Good evening young lady. And you are?’
‘Haboon.’
He moved onto the shorter, hotter one next. ‘And you must be Ramla?’
‘Yes.’ Ramla side eyed the audience as she said it.
‘What the fuck are you wearing, bro?’ Haboon asked.
‘Oh this?’ Sammy tipped his hat. ‘A pirate outfit. You know I tried to put together a Somali Pirate outfit, but the shop was all out of Somali Pirate outfits so I had to settle for a Normal Pirate.’
‘That’s actually really offensive.’ Haboon was frowning.
‘Yeah,’ Rama’s bad smell expression was intensifying. ‘It’s not funny. You need to explain the joke to us.’
Ram;a and Haboon exchanged looks, pleased to have already gotten one over on him.
‘Girl’s Embarrassment? Offensive? Who’d have thought it,’ Sammy was speaking into the camera.
‘He’s being a dickhead, girls.’ Bea was shaking her head. ‘Ignore him, he’ll stop in a bit.’
‘Oh Bea, you know me better than that, you know I won’t stop.’ He turned to the two girls. ‘Now tell me, have either of you ever been naked in public?’
They both shook their heads.
‘Why the hell would we do that?’ Ramla said.
‘I don’t know? What happens in the desert stays in the desert?’ Was Sammy’s lame reply.
‘We don’t come from a desert, you retard.’ Haboon said.
‘Alright, alright!’ Sammy cried. ‘I don’t need the geography lesson.’
‘I think you do, mate.’ Bea intoned.
Sammy ignored her. ‘So, Haboon, Ramla. Tonight, you will be naked in public, a pretty big deal for you both no doubt?’
‘Yeah…’ Haroon looked down at her feet
Ramla looked ready to throw up.
‘We have made it easy for you, some modesty will be afforded, ok?’ There was a glint of hope in both their eyes. Then, in a voice brimming over with sincerity: ‘We want to make this easy on you both as possible? OK?’
They both nodded along dumbly.
‘And only one of you will go in the chair for the shave.’
‘Oh.’ Ramla’s face changed, as she looked over to her friend. ‘Who’s deciding?’
‘Luck of the draw ladies. No arguments that way. Bea, do you have one in particular you’re hoping to get your clippers into?’
She took a step back, eying up her prey. ‘Probably Ramla.’
‘Is that because I’m the prettiest?’
‘You’ll be the baldest.’ Haboon said with a snarl.
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’ Sammy interjected, then addressed the camera directly again. ‘We’ll get these two back stage again for their outfit change, and we’ll right be right back after the break,’ he pointed into the camera. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’
Ramla and Haboon walked towards the back of the stage, as the interlude music played and Sammy faded out again.
*
‘Welcome back to Girl’s Embarrassment,’ Sammy hit the ground running with his breathless commentary. He’d lost the pirate outfit. ‘I’ve just been told,’ he touched his earpiece ‘That our lovely young ladies are ready to come back out. Are we ready to see them in our favorite outfit on Girls Embarrassment?’
‘Yes!’ The audience roared.
‘Bea?’
‘Clippers charged. There’s a nice warm bowl of water, so let’s get them out before it goes cold.’
‘Alright,’ he rubbed his hands together with a canine smile. ‘Ramla and Haboon, come on down!’
The music they’d chosen for their walk of shame was Lizzo’s Good as Hell. Their entrance was played back on the massive video wall at the back of the set.
Ramla stepped out first. She was completely naked, apart from her necklace and the edition of a black hijab.
The applause was explosive, with the whistling and calls louder than the actual clapping.
One hand was firmly clasped over her pussy, the other across her boobs. But she moved with confidence, looking straight ahead.
Haboon’s swagger seemed to have gone along with her clothes. She retained the hijab and the flower but was also naked. Her hands were behind her back and she stooped as she walked, as if trying to make herself smaller, hiding behind Ramla. Her large boobs with their massive, dark brown nipples swung as she moved. Haboon was squeezing her legs together as she walked, hiding her pussy between her thighs.
As they walked closer to the stage, the view from the video wall changed to show them from behind – showing the audience their naked brown arses. Ramla’s was big – full and shapely but not fat, while Haboon’s was just fat, pockmarked with cellulite. It then became clear that her hands were cuffed behind her back.
The music faded out when they reached the front of the stage.
Ramla was biting her lips, and seemed determined to look through the audience. She was biting her lips, and blushing despite her dark skin, with Haboon still cowering behind her.
‘Come on Haboon,’ Sammy teased. ‘No hiding.’
Her response was bleeped out and her mouth pixilised.
‘You know the deal, come on, don’t let the good people of the audience down. Do I have to set Bea on you?’
She glared at him, then did as he asked, giving everyone a full frontal view.
‘I love how I’m a threat.’ Bea said to the audience.
‘Come on, get these off.’ Haboon was straining against the cuffs. ‘This isn’t fair, bro.’
‘Yeah,’ Ramla spoke for the first time since re-emerging. ‘What are those all about? Doing some kinky stuff?’
‘Ramla,’ Haboon growled, ‘I swear, I will lay you out when this is done.’ Her blushing was deeper than Ramla’s.
‘It’s a health and safety precaution,’ Sammy said blandly. ‘During the screening interview Ramla told me she once saw you pick up a table and throw it at a classmate when you were school friends, and I’m afraid everyone’s safety comes before your dignity – actually,’ he added, talking out of the side of his mouth. ‘Quite a few things come before your dignity tonight.’
The audience laughed at that one.
‘But Ramla, I don’t want you thinking you get any special deals, so get those down and give the audience a twirl.
She rolled her eyes, but put her hands down anyway, letting her bell shaped boobs flop down. Her nipples had big aeros as well, but they were a few shades lighter than her friends.
‘A bush!’ Sammy said. ‘Retro!’
‘Shut up. It’s a neat one.’
‘I can see that,’ he said, twisting his head round to get a better view as she did the twirl, very nicely done. Very tasteful.’ When she did the twirl and was facing the audience, he didn’t tell her off when she covered herself up again. ‘You know what though Bea, I didn’t know black girls could blush so much.’
Bea snorted an ugly laugh, as the audience tittered.
‘Now then,’ Sammy’s tone quickly got more serious. ‘Only one of you will be leaving with your hair…The question is…Which one?’ He produced two identical envelopes from his jacket pocket. ‘One of these has Haboon’s name in it…The other, Ramla’s.’
They both went very still. After a pregnant pause, Ramla said: ‘But we both get the money, right?’
‘Right.’ confirmed Sammy, who then held out an envelope in each hand. ‘Bea, would you like to do the honours?’
‘I’d love to mate.’ without deliberating she snatched the envelope in his left hand. ‘I really hope I get this one.’ she brushed Ramla’s hand with her fingers.
‘Hey,’ Ramla stepped away from Bea. ‘If I get shaved, I’m going to be well suss. It’s staged. I bet it’s staged.’
Bea tore it open and dropped the envelope on the floor, her face inscrutable. ‘Ok…Everyone, are we ready for the result?’
The video wall showed a close up of Ramla biting her false nails, and a close up of Haboon’s face as she winced.
Bea cocked one of her eyebrows. ‘Ramla…’
‘Yess…’ she closed her eyes and looked like she was waiting for an electric shock. ‘Oh god its gonna be me…Oh –BEEP – ,’ her mouth went pixelated this time. ‘It’s me I know it…’
Bea seemed to be enjoying the tension. She parted her lips, but waited a beat before actually speaking. ‘Ramla…You’re safe. It’s Haboon who’s getting her head shaved.
Making a “phew!” gesture, Ramla laughed and wiped an imaginary bead of sweat off her forehead, laughing, looking truly delighted.
‘Literally – BEEP – you!’ Haboon shouted.
Ramla forgot her modesty for a second, as she skipped the short distance to Bea. ‘I really thought it was going to be me! I could hug, you. Don’t worry, I won’t, but I could.’
‘You can hug me if you want!’ Sammy opened his arms towards the naked 20-something in front of him.
‘Nah, you’re good.’ She remembered her modesty and covered up again.
‘Alright, hun.’ Bea took up position behind the chair. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
Haboon grimaced, but scampered over to the chair, doing her best to keep a low profile to another cheer.
‘Well to all those Ramla lovers, I hope this hasn’t been too disappointing…’ Sammy said, striding towards the chair.
‘Stop looking at my arse!’ Haboon said over her shoulder as she settled into the chair.
‘I’m not!’ Ramla looked grossed out. ‘Why would I want to see your arse?’
‘…But great news for team Haboon.’ Sammy continued as Haboon crossed her legs. ‘I am sorry Haboon, but your reputation precedes you.’
‘What are you yapping about?’
Two set runners appeared holding cable ties.
‘We know you’re volatile, and could explode at any moment, so your ankles are going to have to be tied.’
‘Hey, no way!’
‘Yes way. Or we wrap the show up and you both leave with nothing.’
‘If you do that,’ Ramla tapped her friend’s shoulder and leaned in. ‘Even though you’re bigger than me I will kick your arse.’
‘Now, we don’t want that.’ Sammy used a stern tone but made a silly face towards the audience.
‘Oh come on fam, I’m not going to roundhouse anybody.’
‘Tell our insurance that.’ Sammy quipped.
Haboon’s face seemed to collapse with embarrassment. ‘Uhhh jeeezz, fine.’
The two set runners cable tied her ankles to a chrome bar under the chair, leaving her completely imobile.
‘Hey,’ she said to them. ‘Can I get something on? This is too much.’
One of them shook his head, then focussed on the job in hand.
‘Please, I don’t want everyone seeing my vagina.’ Haboon pleaded as they got up and left her.
‘Ok, fine.’ Sammy said. He unclipped the red plastic flower from her hijab and placed it between her legs, covering her shaved, wide open flaps up.
This caused hilarity from the audience, and even Ramla was stifling a laugh.
‘Hey, that isn’t what I meant.’
‘You’re not flashing your fanny anymore!’ Sammy said, exasperated.
‘True that.’ Ramla smirked, and looked like she was starting to enjoy the show.
‘Yeah…I guess.’ Haboon sucked in her cheeks and huffed, as Bea slipped off the hijab. Haboon looked completely different when dark brown, loose curls spilled out to her shoulders before passing it to Sammy.
‘What am I meant to do with this?’
‘Look after it. And be respectful.’
‘Sure.’ Sammy said before using it to whip Ramla’s arse.
Ramla swore at him and called him a nonce, trying, and failing to snatch it off him as Bea got to work.
She didn’t mess around, running the clippers down the centre of Haboon’s head, clearing a path of stubble down the middle and sending a cascade of curls tumbling to the floor.
She gawped, as some of the shorn hair landed on her lap. The pile on the floor got bigger, and more and more random strands landed on her legs.
In a few seconds, she was sporting a skullet.
Bea paused to rub the stubble, allowing herself a quiet cackle as she stood back to admire her work.
‘You’re not honestly going to leave her like that, are you?’ Sammy moved in closer to inspect Haboon’s head.
‘Guys, stop taking the piss,’ Haboon twisted and squirmed in the chair. ‘Just shave me if you’re gonna do it!’
‘I don’t know,’ Sammy took away a severed clump which had clung to the side of Haboon’s head. ‘I think she could rock the Crusty the Clown look.’
‘Oh my God yes,’ Ramla’s eyes lit up. ‘Do it! Like spray the rest of her hair green or something.’
‘Ramla, if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna shave you bald in your sleep.’ Haboon looked ugly when she was angry.
‘How?’ Ramla taunted. ‘It’s not like we have sleepovers and stuff, we’re not 13 anymore.’
‘Good point, well made.’ Sammy chirped as Bea resumed work. She gripped hold of the hair on one side of Haboon’s head then shoved her to one side. With a fistful of hair in one hand and clippers in the other, she skillfully shaved from Haboon’s sideburns, then up and over her ear in one smooth stroke.
Haboon was cringing and gritting her teeth the whole time.
Bea took the unusual step of moving onto the other side and leaving the hair intact at the back, shoving Haboon’s head the other side.
Her eyes were still shut, and Sammy sounded like he was having great pleasure in telling the audience she was starting to cry.
‘Aaaand the water works have come on. Very pleasing to all you sickoes who like to see some tears. And very pleasing to Ramla who looks like she’d be creaming her knickers – if she had any on.’
‘Excuse me? You think this is making me horny?’
‘Going by the smile on your face, yes.’
Haboon spluttered, holding back tears as Bea lifted up sections of hair from the back of her head and dug the clippers in.
‘Not everyone is as messed up as you, Sammy.’ Bea said, causally finishing up the shave.
‘Well ok,’ Sammy conceded. ‘Maybe I’m mistaking it for schadenfreude.’
‘Yeah, I mean it is pretty funny.’ Ramla said flippantly.
‘Oh you think it’s funny?’ Haboon gulped back tears, anger herdening her voice. ‘You think everyone seeing your tits while your head gets shaved, with a plastic flower over your vagina is funny? Ramla, I’ll remember that!’
‘I can take away the flower if you want?’ Sammy offered.
‘No!’ Haboon’s eyes widened with panic as Bea took the last couple of swipes, leaving her with nothing but short stubble.
Like a warrior holding up the severed head of her enemy, Bea held up the final strand. Applause swept through the audience as she threw it into the crowd. As she gloated, Sammy showed Haboon her reflection in a salon mirror.
Her face dropped, and she stared at it for several seconds before she howled. ‘Oh, that’s rank! Some people actually think that looks good?’
‘Let me put it to you this way,’ Sammy said. ‘A blind man would be glad to see you.’
Haboon said something else that was bleeped out.
‘But of course,’ Sammy returned to centre stage. ‘We’re not done yet, for a shave is not a shave without the razor and shaving cream.’ He said it as if it was some wise Chinese proverb. ‘And that’s why Bea is warming up that hot towel as we speak.’
‘Oh man you mean properly bald?’ Haboon moaned. ‘I don’t want the shine.’
‘Hey, I don’t want to drag my sorry carcass out of bed to go to work at 11am every morning but I manage it.’ Sammy lamented, as Ramla watched on, fascinated. He winked at the camera. ‘Don’t go anywhere, we’ll be right back!’
The camera panned over the set as the theme tuned blared, then over the audience before the next ad break.
‘Hello, and welcome back. Now if you’ve just joined us, Bea has finished giving Haboon the hot towel treatment and she’s lathered up and ready to go.’
Bea was resting one hand on Haboon’s bare shoulders, and the other was poised to strike with the razor. She made a show for the camera, running her tongue over her Essex-white teeth.
Haboon’s head was covered in shaving cream, bright white in contrast against her dark skin.
‘Since we’re past the real meat of the action now, we’ve uncuffed and untied Haboon.’ Sammy gave her the mic. ‘How you feeling?’
She was sitting with her legs together, hunched over, arms over her boobs, holding onto the plastic flower. ‘How do I feel? Bro, I’m cooked. Look at me.’
‘Well, you’re gonna need that hijab is all I can say.’ Sammy picked it up off the floor and put it on her lap. ‘Ramla? Have you thought about how you’re going to spend your prize money your friend has selfishly won for you?’
‘Hmmm…’ Keeping her arm pressed against her chest to not flash her boobs, she touched her chin thoughtfully. ‘I know it’s basic, but maybe a holiday? You know, Crete or somewhere?’
‘Haboon, doesn’t it feel good to know that your selflessness has paid for your friend to have a nice holiday.’
Haboon gave Sammy the death stare as Bea shaved her head with the razor.
‘So, Ramla.’ Sammy put her arm over Ramla’s shoulder, making her visibly recoil. ‘Are you prepared to take Haboon’s place in that chair next?’
For the first time, Haboon cracked a smile. ‘Hahaha! Bro! You gonna be a bald bitch too!’
Bea grinned but didn’t pause her work with the razor, keeping it sliding over Haboon’s scalp.
‘Wow! I’ve been a black girl blush tonight, and now I’ve seen one go pale.’ Sammy sounded amazed.
‘Excuse me, what?’ Ramla was trying to put on a front of anger and indignity but her voice had gone hollow and worried. ‘You said I wasn’t getting my head shaved. And believe me, I’m not getting my head shaved.’
‘Calm down,’ Sammy soothed. ‘Nobody is telling you have to get your head shaved.’
‘Awwh.’ Haboon returned to what had become her default sad face, and visible waves of relief washed off of Ramla. ‘That isn’t fair! Shave her too!’
“Shave her!” the crowd roared as one.
‘No, no.’ Sammy waggled his finger. ‘I am a man of my word.’
‘Ok,’ Ramla nodded, looking serious. ‘Why do I have to go in the chair?’
Bea snorted, biting her lip as she tried to suppress a massive grin. It was a look that said “I know what’s coming…”
‘Ramla, we said you weren’t going to shave your head.’
Her face slid when she realised what he was about to say.
‘But we didn’t say anything about your bush.’
A swell of cheers, applause and laughter quickly bubbled up and died down again.
‘That is messed up!’ Ramla said, her nose turned up.
‘I know.’ Sammy said, as if it was something to be proud of. ‘And you know what? It will do great stuff for our ratings. Our sponsors will like it, too.’
‘Who the hell are your sponsors?’
‘Veet, Gillette, Venus, you know the normal suspects.’ Sammy said. ‘Now, Bea is finishing up with Haboon here, as we can see.’ Most of the shaving cream had been replaced with shiny grey scalp. ‘So before we get you settled down, I’m sorry to say those big, black, caterpillar-like eyebrows will be meeting the same fate as the bush.’
‘My eyebrows are not caterpillars!’
‘Doesn’t matter love, they’ll be going anyway.’ Bea was making the last few swipes.
‘Wait! Wait! I am not letting you do this.’
Sammy gasped. ‘Don’t you want that holiday? You really want Haboon to do this for nothing.’
‘Ramla,’ Haboon raised her voice. ‘I swear, I will actually kill you.’
‘Haboon – shut up! I said no!’
‘You just have to get your pussy shaved and your eyebrows, and you can draw those on.’ Bea finished up and Haboon rubbed her own head and scrunched her face up. ‘Jesus, that is bald. I am not doing this for nothing.’
‘Ramla, are you sure you want to forgo the prize money?’ Sammy was deadpan.
‘No, she’s not sure.’ Haboon said. ‘Bitch, get in the chair. They’re literally asking for you to do two small things.’
‘Getting my pussy shaved on TV isn’t small, Haboon.’ Ramla snapped. ‘It’s pretty – BEEP – big and I don’t know if my brows would even grow back the same.’
‘Not doing it…’ Bea was disappointed and downcast. ‘Is pretty shitty behavior. Sorry.’
‘Yeah, so is lying to me.’
Sammy had a snooty, aloof look on his face. ‘Nobody lied to you, Ramla.’
Then, on cue, the audience began chanting.
“In the chair, in the chair, in the chair…”
Ramla looked small and lost suddenly. She mouthed something, that was probably rude. ‘Alright, you freaks. I’ll do it.’
A roar, akin to a football crowd when a team scored came from the audience.
Sammy punched the air, doing a little jig. ‘There we go ladies and gents! We have our pussy shave!’
Covering herself up, Haboon stood up from the chair, as Ramla eyed it up.
‘I have to sit there?’
‘I don’t fancy doing it with you standing, love.’ Bea said.
‘But Haboon’s arse has been in it.’
‘I don’t have AIDs, Ramla.’
Sammy couldn’t help himself. ‘Always a risk in Africa.’
‘We’re not fucking African! We’ve never even been.’ Haboon said. ‘You racist.’
Reluctantly, Ramla sat down.
‘Hmm…Maybe there was a reason we didn’t do the diversity thing before?’ Sammy scratched his beard thoughtfully.
‘Because you’re a prick?’ Bea suggested.
‘Yeah, for real that’s the reason.’ Haboon was running her hand over freshly shaved head.
The stage runners appeared with their cable ties again.
‘Ahhh c’mon don’t strap me down.’
‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.’ Sammy replied.
‘What does that even mean?’
‘Wide open vagina for a wide open vagina.’ He explained patiently. ‘Like eye for an eye but better for viewing figures.’
Ramla was protesting, keeping her legs together. ‘Please, guys. I’m not like her I’m not gonna act up.’
‘It’s getting shaved anyway, so spread ‘em.’ Bea nudged one of Ramla’s feet to one side with the tip of her shoe. ‘Come on.’
‘This is so embarrassing.’ Ramla crossed her arms.
‘That’s our stock in trade, love.’ Sammy was circling the chair.
She sighed and gave up her modesty, letting them lash her up like they did to Haboon. Once her ankles had been tied, her wrists were tied to the chair arms, and her cheeks were burning more than ever. Ramla was muttering something under her breath, eyes closed.
The camera angle closed in to show just Bea and Ramla.
‘Alright, any preference for being shaved, or being waxed?’ Bea offered up both wax strips and the razor.
‘…Wax, please.’
‘Oh, not what I was expecting.’ – Sammy’s voice. ‘How come? Explain your workings.’
‘Because I shaved there a few times and…It didn’t go well, my skin didn’t like it.’ Ramla’s face changed suddenly. ‘Hey, why am I telling you this? I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ She went quiet again as Bea gloved up and laid the strips over her vagina, leaving out her labia and crack. ‘You…You are trained for this, right?’
Haboon chortled in the background. ‘Like some random person waxing your pussy?’
‘Of course I am,’ Bea gently patted the strips down. ‘Gee, imagine the lawsuits if I wasn’t.’
‘Yeah, we get enough of those as it is.’ Sammy said.
‘Sammy, you’re getting in my space. Piss off.’ Bea waved him away. ‘Thank you. Alright hun, I’m going to give you a choice. I can just rip it off, or try and be slow and gentle.’
She twitched in the chair like it was already happening. ‘Just rip it off. Just get it done.’
Bea creased her nose as she spoke. ‘That’s probably for the best.’
Sammy did a count down with the audience as Ramla gripped hold of the chair like she was in the Discovery Space Shuttle on launch.
“…3…2…1…Wax!”
Ramla let out a brief, dry, sharp scream as one half of her bush was torn off. The jerking movement of her head was enough to dislodge her hijab on one side.
‘Awwwaaahhhhoooowwch.’ Her eyes were damp as she took in a deep breath, and Bea chucked the discarded strip on the floor. A mat of pubes faced the ceiling, all torn out at the roots.
‘You good for me to carry on?’ Bea picked the corner off the other section.
‘Yeah.’ Breathless, Ramla nodded, bracing for impact.
Bea didn’t wait for a countdown and tore it straight off.
She made another scream, still seeming surprised that it hurt as much as it did.
To a round of applause, Bea dropped the other section on the floor. It wasn’t clear if the applause was for her or Ramla.
The camera panned back to Sammy who was standing next Haboon. She realised she was directly in shot and moved away, trying to cover up. ‘We’re really spoiling you tonight aren’t we. Let’s have a look at that again.’
The screen cut to the same close up slow motion action replay that would be playing on the video wall. It showed the last section being torn off, and Ramla’s flaps briefly wobbling as the bush was torn away.
From another angle, it showed it again, still in slow motion. Sammy was narrating.
‘As they say, that’s gotta hurt! And did it hurt.’
Ramla had tears running down her cheeks now. ‘Uh, yeah. Like – BEEP –.’
‘Bless you.’ Bea massaged her shoulders, you ready for me to move on.
Ramla swallowed. ‘You mean to the eyebrows don’t you?’
‘Afraid so, hun.’
‘Please! Not my brows! I’m gonna like an alien!’
‘I think browless, without make up, you’d look like ET wrapped up in that hijab.’ Sammy chuckled.
‘I’m gonna sue you if you don’t with these jokes?’ Ramla frowned through the drying tears.
‘Alright, alright,’ Sammy turned to face the audience. ‘Let’s put it to the audience. Should she keep the brows?’
“NO!”
‘I tried.’ Sammy shrugged.
‘You did.’ Bea peeled off her gloves, then readied some smaller wax strips.
‘Wait. Wut? You’re waxing them?’
‘Yes,’ Sammy said. ‘That’s what we agreed.’
‘We agreed to wax my pussy! Not my brows! Can’t you shave them instead?’
‘We can, but that would be a promise broken.’
‘How?’ Ramla was panicking now. ‘Just shave them? Oh, come on.’ She begged as bea pressed them onto her forehead. ‘If you wax them I don’t even know if they’re gunna come back.’
‘A lasting reminder of our time together.’ Sammy replied.
‘I don’t want a lasting reminder, you’re a non-’ A sharp intake of breath. ‘Oww! That stiiiiiinnnngggs!’
Bea ripped the first eyebrow off, then showed it to her. The eyebrow had been taken clean off. ‘Did you want to keep it?’
‘No, you’re as weird as him.’ The skin where her brow had been was slightly lighter, and shining under the stage lights. ‘…Just get it over with…Ooooowwwwww!’ Ramla sat cringing, now browless.
‘I think those false lashes might have to go as well, Bea.’ Sammy’s voice took on a grim sobriety.
Bea stood back. ‘You think?’
‘Why? You two are freaks, you know that?’
‘I agree with him,’ Bea leaned in to pick them off. ‘False lashes and no eyebrows seems silly to me.’
Ramla closed her eyes again as Bea picked them off, then flicked them onto the floor with the wax strips and Haboon’s hair.
Sammy picked some of the hair up. ‘You’re going to have to clean this up, Haboon.’ He passed her the hijab. ‘Use that instead of a bag.’
Without looking at him or saying anything she snatched her hijab off him and knelt down, picking up clumps of hair.
‘How you doing?’ Bea asked Ramla. ‘My eye forehead stings and my pussy stings. Happy?’
‘Delirious.’ Sammy chirped. ‘I can put some lotion on you if you like?’
‘No. I’ll pass.’
‘Yeah if you tried touching my fanny,’ Bea was pulling some wet wipes out a packet. ‘I’d bite your hand off.’
Sammy glanced back to the camera. ‘Bit harsh.’
‘The truth hurts – alright sweet’, close your eyes, your make up is wrecked, bless ya.’
Clearly enjoying the mise-en-scène in front of him, Sammy was quiet as Bea wiped off Ramla’s make up, and Haboon picked up her hair, dutifully laying it onto the hijab. He enjoyed it for a while, and after enough dead air time had passed he spoke again. ‘Look at it this way, Ramla, you’ve come off better than Haboon.’
‘Yeah, at least I don’t look as bad as her.’
‘Oh thanks,’ She stopped, as gathered up the last of hair. ‘You’re saying I’m ugly now?’
‘I mean, I hardly look great either.’
‘You’re saying I’m ugly aren’t you?’
‘No,’ Ramla’s eyes were wide and innocent as Bea finished with her, and Haboon loomed over her. ‘I never said that.’
‘This isn’t fair!’ Haboon shouted. ‘Shave this bitch!’
‘I’m doing that.’ Bea stepped away. ‘I’ve done my bit.’
‘She has to get home to wash her hair.’ Sammy added. ‘Like Ramla will.’
‘Yeah?’ Haboon jerked off Ramla’s hijab so it landed on her lap, letting the loose, black curls spring out again. ‘ – BEEP – your hair!’
‘Haboon! Woah! What?’
‘Give me those!’ Haboon snatched the clippers from Bea’s table.
‘No! No! Haboon! No!’
The camera was treated to the view of Haboon’s naked arse and the back of her bald head as she stood squarely in front of Ramla.
‘Stop her! Get in here! Stop her!’
‘Like I’m getting in the way of that.’ Bea rolled her eyes and walked away to watch from a safe distance.
‘Looks like we have ourselves another shave after all, folks!’
The camera changed angles, giving a view from the side as Haboon practically mounted Ramla, getting up close to her.
‘Get your fat tits out of my face! Ugh! Stop! Oh – BEEP -ing hell stop!’
Haboon took a fistful of Ramla’s hair and forced her face down, then shaved a path down the middle of her head, back to front. ‘Try and make fun of me? Think it’s really funny?’
‘Haboooon noooo!’ Ramla’s voice collapsed into a sob, as her “friend” made another pass, as the hair collected on the hijab spread across her lap.
There was a determined and mean look on Haboon’s face as she bit her lip, getting stuck into the springy curls.
‘That’s some fast shaving action,’ Sammy was taking on the role of a boxing commentator. ‘In less than ten seconds Rama’s got a skullet!’
It changed to a close up of Ramla’s head. Haboon moved onto the sides, taking fast back to front swipes but she didn’t overlap, leaving a line of unevenly cropped stubble as she moved slower.
‘She’s fast, but not going very close, I think the clippers are skipping over the hair in places,’ Sammy was babbling. ‘This is the kind of shave you see on somebody who’s passed out a party.’
Ramla was wide eye, still, looking at the pile build up in front of her.
The camera switched back again, to show Haboon from behind as she leaned into Ramla, whose feet and hands were clenched up as she was crushed under Haboon’s weight. When it showed the close up again, Ramla’s jaw was on edge as Haboon temped to shave the back of her head.
She gave, gave the camera a brief close up of her arse as she dismounted Ramla then moved to the back, where she shaved the back of her head, proceeding in the same back to front motion, this time throwing clumps of hair past the front of Ramla’s face.
‘That’s a pretty interesting head shape,’ Sammy noticed. ‘Balloon shaped, I’d say.’
Haboon worked at lightning pace, missing patches along the way. Sammy was describing it as a “bootcamp style shave”.
With Ramla shell-shocked when Haboon shut the clippers off, the crowd erupted. The shave was indeed rough. Patches a few inches long survived on the back, with a single long curly black sprig surviving.
Haboon paused to pick up a hand full and rub it under Ramla’s nose. She shook off her larger friend, reacting for the first time. She was tense allover and breathing deeply when the feed cut to show Sammy next to the chair.
‘Well, safe to say you’re both going to need those hijabs now.’ He picked up a clump, studied it then put it back.
Her jaw set on edge and looking angry again, Ramla strained against the zip ties. ‘Haboon! I’m gunna get you back for this!’
‘Why, what are you doing to me, bro? Shaving my head?’
Sammy made a hearty laugh. ‘I think we’ve over delivered for tonight. Haboon, enjoy the money, Ramla, enjoy your holiday.’
‘I need my hair if I’m going on holiday…’ she sulked as Bea freed her. ‘Who goes to the beach bald?’
‘We’ll throw in some sun screen for it, how’s that sound?’
Ramla simply ground her teeth, looking at the hair on her lap.
‘We’ll see you next time.’ Sammy winked.
Bea strode into shot again. ‘Bye!’ She gave a cheerful wink as the camera panned away from the scene on stage, back over the audience, and the theme tune played.
As the credits rolled it cut to another close up of Ramla, this time in slow motion, standing in front of white a studio background, in her hijab. A hand came into the shot, removed it, exposing the pile of shorn locks on her buzzed head.
They balanced their briefly, before tumbling down.
“If you would like to appear on Girl’s Embarrassment, or you would like to nominate somebody else, maybe the lady in your life,” A voice over from Sammy played. “Get in contact with the team on 0800 500 728 ‘i hope to see you soon!”
