Attack of the Deranged Straightening Iron
Submitted by:PeachyKeenChick1@aol.com
Disclaimer: Don't own em. Don't know em. Don't copy.
Author's Note: Okay, I went to the concert last night (8/2) and my good friend SweetiePie and I noticed that, well, Erik was buzzed. So, this story is in honor of that! (I know its stupid but I had writer's block for all my other fics).
P.S. - This isn't as wild as it sounds. And I know how evil straightening irons can be. I have curly hair myself.
Erik-Michael Estrada woke to the sun streaming in through his bedroom window one day in September. He groaned and wondered why the sun had to be so positively evil and that blinds were not made like they used to be back in the olden days. He sat up in his bed and stretched. Erik scratched his head and walked into the bathroom that adjoined to his bedroom and looked into the dreaded mirror that was above the sink. He noticed it looked like a rabbit had nested in it. Some strands were curly, others were sticking straight up and others looked like they were stuck in an electrical outlet.
He hopped into the shower and let the spray wash over his face. He made sure his hair was soaking wet so he would therefore have an easier time straightening it when he got out because him and the rest of the guys had a photo shoot today for the cover of TeenPeople magazine. He lathered up his hair with a small amount of shampoo and conditioner (Pert Plus two-in-one to be exact) and he rinsed it until it was squeaky-clean and then he stepped out of the shower, rubbing the towel up and down his body and then fastening it around his thin waist.
He plugged in his straightening iron and walked over to his walk-in closet and chose his white Planet Hollywood shirt, a white visor from Aeropostale and a pair of navy blue shorts and his favorite Adidas three-stripe shoes with navy stripes. He brought them into the bathroom, threw on his shorts and picked up his straightening iron, which was now ready, sporting a red "ready" light.
He brought the straightening iron to his hair, carefully coming close to the roots. A tad bit too close because he yelped, "Shit I did it again!" He threw the straightening iron carelessly on the counter and threw on the water in the sink, throwing his head under the freezing cascading water that was flowing from the faucet. "Aaahh..." he moaned at the feel of the water on his burning scalp. "God, I hate that thing," he muttered angrily while taking his towel and rubbing it on his hair gingerly, trying to get it somewhat dry compared to the soaking wet it had been. He softly touched the place where the evil straightening iron had burned his scalp and he winced a little bit. (He never could handle pain.) He knew that the make-up artists they got for the photo shoot that day would probably mess with his hair and do it worse than he does if he didn't do it, so he continued attempting to straighten his hair. This time he began at least an inch or two away from his head so as not to burn it again and let out a sigh of relief when it was done and over with. He put the visor on his head, threw on his shirt, and headed down the stairs for some breakfast.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen he knew that he was in trouble: plates, bowls, and glasses were scattered all over the counter and guess what? It was his day to do the dishes.
They always seem to make sure that I have the biggest pile to wash, Erik-Michael thought to himself, somewhat scornful to his fellow O-Towners for a minute, but then he figured he would seek revenge on each and every one of them for the next four days. He knew he had a devilish grin on his face due to childish thinking, but ya know he couldn't help it.
Ashley walked in to see Erik eyeing the ever-growing pile of dishes. Play it cool. Play it stupid. Play it blonde, he thought to himself as he strode over to Erik. Once behind him without Erik seeming to not even remotely notice Ashley, he said, only inches away from Erik, "So, man. How's your day been?"
Erik glanced at the clock. "Ash, don't ask and anyway, it's 7:30. What possibly could have happened before 7:30 in the morning?" Erik demanded semi-seriously with his hands on his hips.
Dan shot Erik a knowing glance, extremely similar to the knowing glance that Ashley threw at Erik also as he entered the kitchen also. "Uh-huh. Burned yourself with the straightening iron again, didn't you?"
Erik's face began to hold a tinge of pink and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Maybe," he mumbled under his breath, almost embarassed. Embarassed for no reason. Everyone burns themselves sometimes, even if it isn't with a straightening iron.
"I knew it!" Ashley said, triumphantly holding his arms in the air, a huge grin on his face.
"Dude, no you didn't!" Dan argued (and someone jokingly I might add. It was obvious to all the guys when Erik burned himself with a straightening iron. He had that look.)
"Dude, whatever." Ashley had a smile on his face. He couldn't ever be serious unless he absolutely needed to. Like when he was on camera. The cameras never got to see the hammy side of Ashley Parker Angel. They wanted to be sophisticated, deep and extremely career-minded for his age. Which, in a way he was. He was extremely intelligent, he just liked to joke around as much as the next person, you know?
"I have got to do something about my fricken hair," Erik suddenly muttered under his breath.
Dan and Ashley stopped pretend-arguing and turned around to look at Erik in surprise. "What are you going to do with your fricken hair?" they asked simultaneously.
"Nothing," he said, but he knew he had to do something. This hair of his was a pain in the ass and he was tired of doing crap with it.
"Uh-huh," they both muttered, knowing all too well that Erik most likely had a plan up his sleeve.
The photo shoot went by in a flash. It was nothing they weren't used to by now, and therefore not that big a deal. They all rode home in their big Yukon together, and then split ways. Jake to the Playstation, Dan to the TV, Trevor to his room to read a comic book, and Ashley to call Shelli from his bedroom. Erik, however, headed outside to his car, a black Jeep Cherokee. He hopped in and went to the closest hair salon...
"Hello, how may I help you?" the receptionist asked him.
"Uh, yeah. I need a haircut. Try and give me someone who knows about aggravating curly hair," Erik requested.
"Coming right up," she said as though she were a waitress and he just ordered a Strawberry Daiquiri.
She led him over to a girl who was waiting patiently for someone to work on. "This gentlemen wants you to do something with this aggravating curly hair," the receptionist told her and the girl nodded in understanding.
"Well, what's the problem?"
"I'm sick of straightening it. What do you suggest I do?"
"Shave it. Well, buzz it. That's the best low-maintenance way to go," she replied.
"Go for it."
And she did.
In honor of his new haircut, he made a stop at Orlando mall on the way back to his home. He stopped in and bought a new pair of glasses that had dark frames (he didn't need to wait for a prescription because they aren't actually used for seeing, they're just there for style). He paid the cashier quickly and headed out to the car that was waiting for him in the parking lot. He jumped in the driver's seat and headed for home.
He weaved his way in and out of the traffic and finally made it home, pulling carefully into the wide driveway that housed all of their cars. He was getting extremely hungry and was craving a bowl of Golden Grahams right about now and he hurriedly jumped out of his car, completely forgetting his visor (like it would be much help anyway).
He walked in the door, and noticed that nobody was there so he made his way hungrily into the kitchen (which was full of the dishes he hadn't cleaned yet, might I add) and grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard...Okay, so there weren't any bowls that were clean... So he grabbed a plate and threw some cereal on it and splashed some milk----a very little amount----and shoved the cereal, which was quite more dry than cereal was supposed to be when you ate it, until it was all gone. Which was when he went for seconds and Dan walked in. "Holy shit, dude! Erik, what the hell did you do to your hair?" He walked over to him and rubbed it almost as though Erik were a Buddha that would bring him good luck. "It's gone!" he said, still quite disbelieving. He continued talking while staring at Erik's almost bald head, asking one of the stupidest and most blonde questions you could ask in that situation, "Where'd it go?"
Erik looked up at Dan with an amused statement on his face. "I buzzed it."
"Why did you do that dude? Everyone thought your hair was cool."
"I was tired of the deranged straightening iron always burning me."
"Oooohhhh..." He rubbed a hand over his newly somewhat bald head. "Fuzzy," he muttered under his breath, with a smile he was attempting unsuccessfully to keep hidden from view.
Erik-Michael just smiled smally at this.
Copyright © Allie Hughes, Vanessa A,Sam Emberley and Jessica Almonte:
Loving O-Town 2000-2001
All Rights Reserved
Special thanx to Mona
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