Assignment 1

After much scrutiny of her reflection in the mirror, Zoe decided it was time for a haircut.Bending over the sink, she gingerly picked up the scissors and wondered what to rid her head of first. Carefully holding a handful of hair, she lined them up, squinting as she did so. Did that make a straight line? Evidently she would just have to find out. Fortune was not smiling on Zoe today, as these particular scissors were especially blunt, and their most recent use had been to cut her fathers toenails. George, the father in question, was a well meaning man, but had peculiar habits that disgusted his family and friends to the point that he had been given the attic to live and do his habits in. Having snipped a jagged line across the first handful, Zoe proceeded to work her way round her head, guessing lengths here and there, and flinging the offending strands onto the floor around her. In just three minutes, her head resembled a mop that had been flung into a blender and quickly retrieved before it was completely destroyed. Just as the last strand joined the melancholy heap on the tiled floor, Zoe heard the key in the lock and knew her mother had come home early. Katrina, the proud mother of this budding hairdresser, worked at the newsagents. Leaping over the pile of hair on the tiled floor, Zoe hid the scissors in the cupboard. Moving swiftly, she swept her hair under the rug and hurried to her room to find a hat. Not that she didn't like her hair, but she knew her mother might disown her if she saw it. Obviously she'd see it eventually, but Zoe thought perhaps it would be best to wait until it was dark and the light wasn't so good. Pulling her hat over her ears, she ventured downstairs. Quickly her mother realised something was up, as Zoe never wore hats if she could help it, so she eyed her daughter with suspicion. Ready with an explanation, Zoe said she was very cold  all of a sudden. Still sceptical, Katrina began to make the dinner. That moment, George entered on one of his errands from the attic, and seeing his daughter with a hat on, laughed uproariously.
 "Under attack are we?? Very lovely helmet dear, but come on take it off, its August for heavens sake!"  Whisking the hat from her head, George unwittingly sealed Zoe's fate. Xenophobic as her mother was, nothing had ever frightened her as much as the sheer unknown and unexpected terror that was now her daughters scalp.
"You cut your own hair?!!!??!"
Zoe said nothing.