Episode Two: Bedhead Apocalypse
Twelve years had passed since my encounter with the dream tender Hushglow, Ethel, and young Timothy on Earth. We go now to a small Midwestern town in America. Four children, now 12 years old, awaken to get ready for their first day of seventh grade. Among them is Zorah Shepherd. A fun and carefree soul, Zorah shines light and life all around her with her humorous personality, strong sense of loyalty, and her willingness to always be herself.
Percival:But Zorah at times questions her place in the world. She is often unsure if people enjoy her company because of the entertaining chaos she brings with her or because of who she truly is deep down on the inside. I smile as I look down upon young Zorah, so full of life, so totally imbued with her own unique sense of self. As our story begins in earnest, Zorah wakes up on the first day of school to find that things are anything but normal. Little does she know just how far from normal her life is about to become.
Percival:Episode Two: Bedhead Apocalypse
Zorah:I was stumped. No clue what was happening, and really, can you blame me? For the fourth day in a row, I'd woken up from the most ridiculous dreams with glitter in my hair and a random nut hidden inside my frizzy tangled mess of curls. Yes. You heard right.
Zorah:Nut. Three days ago, it was a few cashews, then some good old fashioned peanuts. Yesterday, a delicious trio of pecans. And today, go ahead, guess. Hazelnuts, macadamias, a dozen pistachios.
Zorah:Nope. Baru nut. Don't worry. I've never heard of it either. No.
Zorah:My dreams are manifesting exotic snacks from Brazil. Yes. I Googled it. Great. Just great.
Zorah:On the first day of seventh grade, the universe decided I should bring everyone in advisory a weird dream snack. I shot a worried look over my alarm clock, which I'd snoozed no less than at least, like, five times. Panic. Now I only had fifteen minutes to get dressed, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, clean the gallon of glitter out of my hair, and run to the bus. Sorry.
Zorah:Fourteen minutes. Oh, and to make sure all the leftover baru nut crumbs were gone too. We can't forget that. All my teachers think I'm nutty enough. The last thing I need to do is give them actual physical proof of just how right they are.
Zorah:I needed to stay calm and prioritize which items needed to happen and which I could scrap. So clothes, yes, pants on the first day of school are probably definitely important. One time, Timmy Jorgensen showed up to class wearing one sock and one shoe. Not per foot either, like one sock and one shoe. Super weird.
Zorah:No thanks, I thought. Clothes it is. As I rushed up to put on the outfit I had laid out last night, my hair caught on one of the buttons of my top, and I soon discovered that one of the peanuts from two days ago was still stuck way up in there. And yes, I took a bath before the first day of school, but that peanut hid itself really well. How about we just let it go?
Zorah:Okay? Then I considered breakfast. I'd have to run downstairs, eat like one of those crazy people in a hot dog eating contest, run back upstairs, brush my teeth, and then try to tame my ridiculous Bedhead. Yeah. Not happening.
Zorah:Sorry, stomach. You've gotta wait until lunchtime. My stomach replied with a weak gurgling sound that made me feel really guilty about neglecting it. But this was urgent and sacrifices are needed in these crazy times. I rushed into the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth while still getting the baru nut taste out.
Zorah:What? You thought I discovered Brazilian nuts mysteriously in my hair and not at least try them out? Come on now. For the record, it's sort of like cashew, a peanut, and a chocolate chip had some sort of weird nut baby. Pretty tasty, actually.
Zorah:I thought about asking my mom to buy some from the store until I realized that I would have absolutely no way to answer all the awkward questions about why I was suddenly craving Brazilian snack food. Okay. What remained on the checklist? My mind raced a million miles an hour and didn't wanna slow down. I bobbed the heel of my palm against my forehead.
Zorah:Maybe rattling my brain around would somehow shake the correct answer out like my face was an answer giving gumball machine. No brilliant answers fell out of my mouth, but I did remember that my hair still looked like a glitter bomb that got in a fight with a rabid raccoon and lost badly. Another glance at the alarm clock. Five minutes until I had to be at the bus stop. Okay.
Zorah:Okay. I could do this. Of course, I could. Right? I grabbed the closest hairbrush to the bathroom sink and stood over the bathtub to wash away the sparkly evidence like some kind of craft store criminal.
Zorah:I had no time to get my hair wet and conditioned to detangle it correctly, so I grabbed the brush, took a deep breath, and firmly tugged the most tangled, sparkly section of my crime scene hair. The brush broke off at the handle. I've told mom like a million times that my hair is too thick for these crummy plastic brushes, but for some reason she keeps buying them. She doesn't get it, I guess. Must be nice to have long silky hair like some kind of elf from those movies my dad obsessed over.
Zorah:I spent the next two of my four precious remaining minutes desperately trying to untangle the broken brush head out of my hair. Finally, after an Olympic gold medal winning wrestling match, it popped free along with one of those pecans from yesterday. Seriously? This was getting embarrassing. My time was almost up.
Zorah:By now, I was pretty sure that no more rogue nuts were gonna fly off in my head. This was going to have to be good enough, I guess. I composed myself in the mirror. My hair no longer looked like it had lost the fight against the raccoon, but it certainly had not won either. I did my best to comb through the worst of the remaining tangles with my fingers.
Zorah:At least my fingers wouldn't snap in half like the hairbrush. Although with the morning I was having, that wouldn't have surprised me. I managed to tame things down to the point where my hair only looked like it had a bad encounter with an electrical socket instead of a wild animal. Success. Now completely up against the clock, I snagged my backpack and rushed down the stairs.
Zorah:Mom and dad were sitting there in the dining room waiting. I knew how this was gonna go and unfortunately, I didn't have the time for it right now. Hi mom. Hi dad. Love you.
Zorah:I'm so sorry. Gotta go. I'll talk to you guys when I get off the bus. K? Bye.
Zorah:Love you. Bye. I hoped against all hope that they didn't notice the shimmery aura of glitter trailing behind me, but they definitely did. Parents have this frustrating way of always noticing the little things you wish they'd miss.
Zorah's Mom:Zorah, wait.
Zorah:Mom called out. But I was already halfway out the door, frantically scanning the street, expecting to find out that I was going to be the last one to the bus stop. All the other kids will be there waiting silently, being all judgy and weird and staring at my hair, especially Constance. Mom, please. I really have to...
Zorah:She cut me off.
Zorah's Mom:You do realize the bus doesn't come for another fifteen minutes. Right?
Zorah:She had that frustrating glint in her eye that meant she was in on the joke, and I wasn't.
Zorah's Mom:Honey, we set your alarm clock ahead fifteen minutes so you wouldn't sleep in too late. Remember?
Zorah:Of course, I didn't remember. Another pecan fell out, and I smashed it under my shoe into tiny nutty pieces before mom noticed. Yeah, that felt about right. Happy first day of seventh grade, Zorah. You're nailing it.
Percival:I smile as Zora kicks the nut crumbs swiftly underneath the refrigerator, hoping her mother would not notice, which she almost certainly did. Only Zora could greet the first tremors of an extraordinary destiny with a wise crack and a nut in her hair. And yet, that is precisely why she was chosen. Across town, three other children are navigating mornings of their own, each one equally unaware, each one equally significant. The story, as they say, is just getting started.
Announcer:Thank you for listening. If you'd like to support the show and help bring the story to life, please consider joining us on Patreon at patreon.com/epicbedheadsaga. Patrons receive episodes one week early and exclusive behind the scenes content. You can also find us at epicbedheadsaga.com and on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook. And if you're enjoying the show, please follow us on your podcast app of choice.
Announcer:It helps more than you know. The Epic Bedhead Saga is written, produced, and directed by Tyler Michael Jonsson. Episode Two features Tyler Michael Jonsson as Percival and Tiffany Ward as Zorah Shepherd and Zorah's mom. This episode was made possible with the support of our Dreamtender tier patrons, Nancy and Grant Jonsson. We'll see you next time.
Announcer:Until then, keep dreaming.
