by Madeleine Kando
Many years ago there was a King of a mighty country who was so enamored of his hair, that his big palace was chock full of mirrors. He loved walking down the long, golden-studded hallways, looking left and right to admire his reflection. Sometimes he ended up with cramps in his neck, but a good night’s sleep in his huge canopy bed with the mirror on the ceiling took care of that.
This King did not care about reviewing his army or attending important meetings. All his servants, cooks, and numerous gardeners were told to carry a mirror around and whenever they crossed the King’s path, they kneeled and held up the mirror, so his highness could admire his ever-so-beloved hair. On the rare occasions that he did go for rides in his golden carriage, the streets were lined with mirror-carrying, prostrating subjects.
Unfortunately, since hair is no great friend of aging, our beloved ruler found to his horror that his hair was starting to grow dangerously thin.
He spent most of his time experimenting on which side of his head his increasingly sparse hair should be combed. His Advisor in Chief had once commented on how regal he looked when his sparse hair was combed to the left, so from that moment on, everyone in his royal presence had to wear their hair to the left. If they were blessed with an abundance of hair, they were told to cut it short. Naturally, nobody could have more hair than his highness.
Many strangers came to curry favors of the great King. Russian Kings, Chinese Ambassadors, and North Korean Diplomats were seen entering the Palace, carrying large mirrors.
One day, among these many guests, came a barber from a faraway land. He let it be known that he could create the most magnificent hairdos. Not only were his scissors and combs uncommonly fine, but also once he had created a hairstyle, he said, the masterpiece would be invisible to anyone who was unusually stupid or not fit for office.
‘Wouldn’t that be incredible?’ the King thought, ‘if he could make my hair abundant, flowing gorgeously in the wind, just like my mother liked it. I would be the envy of all and I would immediately know who is unfit for their job, in other words, who did not agree with me!’
The next morning, the barber (his name was Figaro), was summoned to the royal bedchamber and got ready to perform his incredible craft. ‘Your majesty’ he said humbly, ‘I must warn you. I have to shave your head before I can create a new beautiful hairstyle. This is the secret ingredient of my oh-so-incredible craft.’