As a Professional Creative-Type, I feel that it is my duty, when a friend says that they're bored, to deboredomify them. Here is the slightly edited transcript of a facebook-chat I had with the lovely Kaedy, in which I feel I was incredibly amusing.

~~~~The Wiggy Adventures of Foppy Le Fop, Toupee Connoisseur and All-Around Swell Guy~~~~

Once upon a time, in the outlandish land of Franceylvania, there was a main-character named Foppy.

Foppy was a theatrical type, an actor in the local opera. He never played any major parts, but he did get to stand near the back of the stage, looking handsomeish, so he obviously needed to look his best.

Yes, he was dressed to the nines: (maybe even the tens): A big pinstriped green overcoat, with epaualets, a fancy sword that clanked when he walked, A belt buckle as big as a Very Big Belt Buckle, and shoes as deep as the ocean and as wide as the sea and as blue as some sort of blue thing.

To complete the ensemble, Foppy had a secret shame. Foppy, was... going... BALD.

Oh sure, he still had SOME hair, but it floofed out nearby his ears, hid inside his nose, and lurked in a number of other regions he'd prefer not to mention. But not a whisp of it upon the tippedy toppedy of his headiddy weaddidy!

In his youth, Foppy had had a luxurious Pompadour Haircut, that made all the ladies swoon, and all the menfolk challenge him to duels. "Leave it a little longer" he would always tell his barber, to the chuckling amusement of all the Haircut Store's Patrons. (except the barber, who was fed up with hair in general, and Foppy in partiular, him and all his rotten jokes. The barber had never wanted to be a barber anyway, he always wanted to be a lumberjack, but that is a seperate story all together)

(The barber had been rubbing Secret De-Hairifying Potion onto Foppy's scalp for years, in his attempts at revenge. Not while Foppy was in the chair, no. The barber snuck into Foppy's house, every alternate thursday like clockwork, and gave him a shampoo of doom. but that isn't really important, as the potion didn't actually work, and Foppy was losing his hair because of Genetics)

So anyway! Foppy had bought a wig to cover his bald patch the instant he had discovered he had a bald patch, and as his baldiddity increased, so did the size of the toupees.
Eventually he was on a '3 wigs a day' habit, and was spending 112% of his income on the silly hairy things. It worked though, no one in the audience could tell he had a faux-pompadour

But then: Problems occurred.

The barber, in his crazy madmannishness, had snuck into Foppy's house last night, and, losing the last vestiges of his sanity, decided to kidnap all of Foppy's wigs, and hold them for ransom. The money would pay off his outstanding barber college debt, and anything left over would go towards buying him a plane ticket to Tropicanada, and some flannel jackets. Foppy awoke to find himself totally bald, bereft of wigs, and with a stirring two-line monologue that very evening.

HORRORS!

Foppy's first course of business (well, 5th course of business if you counted showering, dressing, breakfasting, and newspaper-reading as courses of businessessess.) was to leap into action! He visited his local wiggatorium: Wiggy Von Wiggtenstines Wigs for People Who Needs Wigs, on 61 W. Topiary Street, in the downtown Wig District.

Wiggy was in no mood for Foppy's shenanigans "Why should I sell you another Wig?" Wiggy demanded "when you owe me 14.7 Million dollars for the 14.6 Million other wigs you have bought from me over the past 2 months?

Foppy pondered this for several long hours, "Because of my charming smile?" He inquired, smiling charmingly. Foppy was thrown unceremoniously out of the Wiggatorium. "FINE! Be that way!" Foppy screeched, shaking his fist in a fist shaking sort of way. Although, seeing as how he was lying face down in the street with a face full of mud, this wasn't nearly as dramatic as he had hoped.

END OF PART 1.

PART 2: The Secondiest of All Parts!

Foppy wandered the city, downcast, balding, and whistling oddly through his thicket of nose hair "Oh Woe Is Me, I am So Sad" he announced to a passing pigeon.
(Foppy's brain didn't write very good dialogue.)

But Just then, a suprising plot twist occurred, as Foppy ran into the Hero of the Story walking down the street. or should I say, HEROINE of the story, seeing as how it was Kaedy, Seamstress and Wigmaster Extraordinaire TM! Kaedy, using her strength powers of strength, was single handedly lugging 14.6 Million wigs down the boulevard, all wrapped up in a big bundle. A kindly passing madman, (possibly a barber giving up on his black mail goals upon discovering he was illiterate and couldn't write a ransom note to save his life) had donated them at her, knowing she could use that sort of thing. (The mad barberjack was a friend of her fathers, who got his hair cut at his haircutatorium)

"scuse me, miss," said Foppy, in his best fancy-pants accent (which was secretly terrible). "Would you mind donating one of those there wigs to the 'eople who don't have enough wigs foundation? I am not only it's president and founder, but I am also a member."

"Hmmmmmmmmmm..." deliberated Kaedy, (who was both Magnanimous and Wise, in addition to Beautiful and Crazy-Ass-Strong) Okay Mystery Muddy -Person! Reach into the pile, pull out a wig, and it is yours. But choose at random Very Carefully, as you may only have one, and are stuck with your choice, FOREVER.

"Okey Dokey" Foppy replied, placing a hand over his eyes, and sticking out his tongue in concentration, he thrust his arm up to the elbow into the pile of hair, and pulled out the winning wig!

It was very tiny.

In fact, it bore a remarkable resemblance to the very first wig he had ever bought, to cover his miniscule beginnings of a bald patch. Foppy had a good deal more nose hair even than this wig.

Kaedy nodded. "You have made your choice, good day to you Mr. Sir! I must be off, for I am late and sleep deprived, and must visit the Gummi-Bear-atorium, as well as the Chocolate Factory before I reach my final destination." And, with that, she tossed the ball of wigs high into the air and down the street, then ran crazy fast to the opposite end, catching it, and then continuing to run in this fashion till she was out of sight.


Foppy looked at the item clutched in his hand sadly, and dramatically announced "Alas Poor Pompadour, We Hardly Knew Ye." He rammed the hair upon his head, feeling stupid, but looking stupider. "$#!%" he grumbled, slounching down the street.

END OF PART 2.

PART 3: The Last, Rather Short Part

So: Foppy got to the theater, lurked in the green room for a while, ate a few patés and a sipped a few half dozen bottles of wine. The Curtain went up, and the show, onwards must go. He trundled out on stage, accidentally tripping over a passing cat, and sprawled into the front row. The audience laughed like crazy.

"Hark!" Foppy announced, begginning the first of his two stunning Monologuettes. "Methinks I dost yonder-hear his majestrate, the Prince Duke of the Kingdom-shire, approachingeth!" he cupped his hand to his ear melodramatically, and then sneezed, causing his toupee to fly off and land on the nose of the lady playing The Duchess of Potato-Land, giving her a very moustachish appearance. The audience howled.

Foppy continued to have horrible luck, and screwed up the lines of the play at nearly ever turn. During the famous Smooching scene between the 17 star crossed lovers, Foppy managed to accidentally knock the Prince-Duke unconscious, and had to ad lib furiously to cover this up, changing the plot in rather substantial ways. For instance, instead of the opera ending with half the characters dying from ear poison, the comedy relief being sucked into a black hole, and the Duchess vowing to murder everyone with a green jacket, the play now finished with all 17 characters married to each other, and everyone living happily ever after.

The Opera ended with 17 curtain calls. The author of the play, the Marquis De Cleveré-Trousare himself personally presented Foppy with a boquet of puppies, weeping that the Improvised Play was a thousand times better than anything he could have come up with, and that he secretly found endings very hard to write anyway.

THE END.