The truth is that old Edna hadn't been entertained like this for a long time. But if you found the pranks I have already described in bad taste, you will see that the following are equally awful.
She was flying over the barber's shop of Mr. Montesolo, who was at that time finishing shaving one of his few customers, who went by the name of Elmer Oldham.
This man was one and forty-five years of height, and was almost entirely bald, with the sole exception of a few hairs on the sides of his head, which he had let grow long and combed at an angle so as to cover his broad, glossy bald head. This had the effect, as soon as a strong wind blew, of taking it away from where he had so carefully placed it, and revealing to all the world what he was so desperately trying to hide by making a fool of himself. For of course, as we all know, nothing is so ridiculous as those few long hairs waving like a sad flag in the bore above an otherwise obvious bald head.
Can you imagine, then, the joy this unfortunate man took when the barber Montesolo, the rosy-cheeked, plump, forty-something man with the jovial countenance, announced to him excitedly that he had just a few days before discovered a truly miraculous ointment that would make the barren desert of his head sprout and his withered self-esteem rise again.
- Are you sure, Mr. Montesolo, that this ointment is perfectly safe? I mean to say: I'm not in danger, am I? Mr Oldham asked the barber a little fearfully, sitting in front of the large mirror in the barber's shop.
- 'You insult me, my dear fellow,' he replied, somewhat offended. 'Do you think I would do anything to betray the confidence of my oldest and best customer?
- 'Certainly not,' Elmer hastened to affirm, dryly swallowing, but you understand when something is not absolutely tried and tested.....
- Please, the barber protested irritatedly, and the very thought that it might have crossed your mind that I would try something of dubious quality on your precious baldy makes me want to cry. This drug is tried and tested and completely safe.
- Oh? And, if I'm not prying, where exactly did you test it?
- "Why, at Pepito's, of course," the barber announced with great solemnity.
- Who is he, Mr. Oldham immediately inquired, a customer?
- A customer? Mr. Montesolo exclaimed angrily, a customer, you say? A client of Pepito? And what is a paltry client in the face of my pride? Is Pepito my companion, my joy of life, my hope, my light?
- Ah I see, nodded Mr Oldham sympathetically, surely you are referring to your canoeist. I did not know that you were married, Mr. Montessolo, much less that you had a son. You should be happy for him.
- Oh, my dear, I see that at last you understand me. You are right to call him my son, for, in spite of his beak and his scanty feathers, that is how I see him. Pepito is my parrot.
- 'A parrot,' repeated Mr Oldham, puzzled. So that's what you've been talking to me about.
- "That's the one," said the barber proudly. Oh, my dear fellow, he's the cleverest bird in the world! You see, he knows how to say good morning, good evening and good night.
- What do you mean?" said Mr. Oldham, trying in vain to stifle a yawn.
- 'And that's not all,' added Mr. Montesolo. 'Sometimes he even manages to say it at the right time. How can you not love a bird like that? But he had a terrible accident and since then our lives have changed radically.
- Accident? The client was indifferent.
- 'Yes my dear, it was horrible, truly horrible,' cried the comic barber gesticulating all theatrically, 'I don't know how it happened, and I left the window open one day and he was snatched from me by an old cat through the kitchen. A tragedy, I tell you. I managed to rescue him at the last moment from her murderous claws, of course, but from the shock my poor little bird lost almost all his feathers. And not only that.
- Is there more?
- He's lost his lute, too. Tragic, isn't it?
- A right tragedy, he agreed, if only to make the bald gentleman look kind. And, when you tried the ointment, did it improve at all?
- You cannot imagine, my dear, you cannot imagine. His feathers thickened, his mood changed, he began to talk again. Miraculous, I tell you, my dear, miraculous. Of course, he still only says good night, but I hope that in a little while I shall hear from his sweet beak his good-night and greeting me, once more.
- 'I hope so,' said Mr Oldham wearily.
- 'Well, what do you decide? Mr. Montesolo asked cheerfully, shall I put the ointment on you too? You will see a great improvement, I give you my word of professional honour and dignity.
- Let's put it on and see, Elmer retreated. At most, nothing will happen.
- I'm here, I'm here, the barber cried ecstatically. I'll give you such a treatment that your shiny bald head will please me. And immediately he disappeared into the back of the barber shop. Not but a few minutes had passed when he returned, proudly carrying, as if it were something particularly precious, a glass jar filled with a rather thick, reddish ointment.
- Why is it so red, what's in it? The customer asked suspiciously.
- Oh, don't worry at all my friend. Of course the recipe is top secret and I won't reveal it to just anyone. But I will tell you, because I trust you as my brother. It's from the beetroot.
- "Panjarozumo?" repeated Elmer, surprised.
- 'Yes,' confessed the barber in a very confidential tone, leaning into his ear. After months of unremitting research I became convinced that beetroot juice has the property of nourishing and regenerating the hair in a surprising way. Of course this alone is not enough it must be combined with a multitude of other ingredients that, when mixed, work wonders. But what can we say? You'll see it in action and you won't believe it.
- 'I wish,' said Baldy, not hiding the fact that he was beginning to be impressed.
- With the air of a mad scientist the barber began to smear Mr. Oldham's shiny head with the secret formula against hair loss, and rubbed his bald head with glee, chattering and bragging incessantly about the genius of his recipe.
Edna meanwhile, as if waiting for this very moment, took out her book and after a little fumbling opened it to the page of particularly evil spells. Then she stretched out her finger and pointed with wild glee at the head of Elmer Oldham, who was at that moment receiving the attentions of the eager and jovial barber. Then she sat down comfortably on her broom, to enjoy the result of her wickedness.
Suddenly something strange and frightening began to happen in the barber shop, which caused a commotion to the happy barber. The surface which Mr. Montesolo was working on with great care, without any reason, as if it began to grow wider and his fingers became more tired, travelling a greater distance from one side of the head to the other. Something was very wrong and this was immediately apparent to both client and barber.
- Montesolo, what does that mean? Made Mr. Oldham both frightened and angry at the same time. My head. I can feel it swelling, swelling. Do something at once.
- 'Of course it's to be expected,' he said, trying to look unruffled. It's the new hair coming out. It's just that at first they come out inward and then they'll come outward. That's the process, you understand.
- No, I don't understand anything, Elmer shouted furiously, and I demand that you take this diabolical contraption out of my head immediately.
- Calm down, my dear, tried to calm him down the barber went to fetch a wet towel at once. But you must know that you are losing. This cure is infallible. Ask Pepito.
- Let me lose! Growled the shorty. But ....ma what's happening to me? I'm getting dizzy. Suddenly the barber lost his mind in fright, as his client's head began to grow visibly now and assume truly terrifying proportions. It now resembled a supernatural watermelon and the face seemed almost minimal.
- Montesolo, I'm going to choke you, Mr. Oldham, mad with anger and terror, managed to utter. What was in it, damn you, that infernal manchuzel.
- 'Only pure vegetable matter, I assure you,' Montesolo chanted desperately. It is inexplicable. Inexplicable, I tell you. By the time he had finished this sentence, the little man's head had grown even more enormous, so much so that he could no longer see in the mirror how much he had grown, and that was the only blessing in an otherwise nightmarish situation.
- A doctor!!! A hospital!!! shrieked Mr. Oldham. As for you, quack, I'll have you in jail, or my name isn't Elmer.
- 'Keep calm,' he made in awe; 'there's no need to bother a whole police force about such trifles. A slightly inflated head is no reason to lose one's temper. After all, it may be mere air, and it may slowly blow out of the ears. Yes, continued the barber with an experts flair. As I think about it, it seems to me that this is the only explanation. You had gas that you were not letting go by your natural and preferred route and so it collected in your head. It's bound to slowly deflate.
- And what do you think you're doing, you villain, to my head? A balloon filled with air? Elmer Oldham screamed mad with despair and rage. Well... Well, by a thousand misfortunes. I feel it! It's starting to swell again. Unfortunately this was not a delusion, but the bitter truth. Mr. Oldham's head began to swell and swell again until it was like a little balloon balloon. Mr. Montesolo feared that the huge head would crush him - What do you think you're doing, you villain, with my head? A balloon filled with air? Elmer Oldham screamed mad with despair and rage. Well... Well, by a thousand misfortunes. I feel it! It's starting to swell again. Unfortunately this was not a delusion, but the bitter truth. Mr. Oldham's head began to swell and swell again until it was like a little balloon balloon. Mr. Montesolo feared that the huge head would crush him and pulled himself into a far corner of the barber shop where he thought he would be safe.
- Calm down, he said, trying to sound optimistic, let's look on the bright side. It can't go on inflating forever. At some point it will stop and then a specialist will come in and deflate it for you.
Unfortunately, I am unable for reasons of propriety to convey Mr Oldham's answer exactly as he said it. In any case, its meaning was that the best thing for Montesolo to do was to bring a wet towel even now and wipe his whole head from side to side in order to stop the disaster.
- Of course, my dear sir, don't be upset! I'll go at once and fetch a basin of water, a towel and the ladder. It's not difficult. It'll be like cleaning a car. A bit of a big car, of course, but it'll take more than a bloated melon to overpower Montesolo.
At hearing this simile a torrent of insulting expressions and derogatory epithets, certainly not at all appropriate to a juvenile book, poured from Mr. Oldham's mouth. In any case, they were utterly wasted, for in the meantime the barber, without wasting any time, had disappeared to fetch the ladder.
While he was away, Edna, mounted on the broom, had melted into laughter, seeing with her supernatural vision in every detail all that went on in the barber's shop. However, if you imagine that she intended to let Mr. Oldham get away with a mere swollen head, you are fooling yourself. You must know that as soon as Mr. Montesolo left to fetch the ladder, the old woman took out her book and cast another spell, pointing to Elmer's colossal head. As soon as she did this, something spectacular began to happen. Mr. Oldham's head began to lose air at a rapid rate, and to inflate just like a balloon which, having been blown up by a boy while he was taking it, was allowed to deflate with a loud noise. This was done so quickly and efficiently that, when the barber arrived with the basin and towel, he found his customer's head at its normal size, though considerably wrinkled and wrinkled.
- There, he said, relieved, I told you it would deflate. It was a simple and perfectly ordinary case. You have not heard it said they got his brains in the air. That was that and nothing else. I hope that now we can forget this somewhat unpleasant incident. Mr. Oldham said nothing; he merely seized a pair of scissors from the bench, got up from his chair, and with a look that flew like fire began to head in a very menacing direction towards Mr. Montesolo.
- 'Dear Montessolo,' he said with a sweetness that caused terror. Where is your ointment?
- Here, here, the barber muttered fearfully. Why?
- 'Because I'm going to give it to you to eat,' the man screamed out of control, 'so you'll swell up whole like me, you horrible subject, spend every second of horror and suffer tenfold all the torment you made me go through at your evil hands.
- Mercy, the whole barber managed to mutter shudderingly, I will compensate you. Free shave and haircut... I mean polishing for life.
- 'No,' cried Mr Oldham, 'only when I see you swollen I'll calm down and
- Ma....ma...ma sputtered Mr. Montesolo, pointing to the enraged little man who was getting closer and closer.
- What ma ma ma villain, roared the shorty what do you mean? Speak quickly, for it is your last hour.
- But... but... hair, said the barber, ecstatic with joy. You have grown hair.
- Are you making fun of me, you fool? Mr. Oldham barked and waved his fist threateningly in front of the barber's face. But at the same time, as if he felt some trace of doubt, he turned and looked in the mirror. As soon as he did so, he immediately froze, and the scissors he held like a murder weapon fell from his hands. What he saw was beyond imagination. His head, his until yesterday hairless and shiny head was filled with hair. Rich long and jet-black hair like the mane he had always longed for. "I-I-I have hair," he managed to utter as if lost in an unimaginable dream. I am no longer bald. Montesolo, I have hair, you understand?
- I told you, the barber made with comic certainty, the reason your head was swelling like that was because hair was growing out of it. Now it's come out and you'll never have a problem with hair loss again. The beetroot, my dear. It works wonders, not nonsense. I wouldn't have smeared your bald spot if I wasn't sure of success.
- Ma....ma...ma...ma sputtered Mr. Montesolo pointing to the angry little man who was getting closer and closer.
- What ma ma ma ma villain, roared the shorty what do you mean? Speak quickly, for it is your last hour.
- But... but... hair, said the barber, ecstatic with joy. You have grown hair.
- Are you making fun of me, you fool? Mr. Oldham barked and waved his fist threateningly in front of the barber's face. But at the same time, as if he felt some trace of doubt, he turned and looked in the mirror. As soon as he did so, he immediately froze, and the scissors he held like a murder weapon fell from his hands. What he saw was beyond imagination. His head, his until yesterday hairless and shiny head was filled with hair. Rich long and jet-black hair like the mane he had always longed for. "I-I-I have hair," he managed to utter as if lost in an unimaginable dream. I am no longer bald. Montesolo, I have hair, you understand?
- I told you, the barber made with comic certainty, the reason your head was swelling like that was because hair was growing out of it. Now it's come out and you'll never have a problem with hair loss again. The beetroot, my dear. It works wonders, not nonsense. Would I have smeared your bald spot if I wasn't sure of success?
- Montesolo, you rascal. Let me kiss you, said Mr Oldham, and proudly shook his rich mane. Oh, I'm sorry. I've got hair at last, I feel like I've grown back. The girls at the office won't believe it. They'll think I'm wearing a wig. But I'll tell them grab it, pull it, pull it. It's my own, all mine, all my own, real hair.
- Of course, the barber celebrated. And I'm going to be rich at last. The inventor of the only ointment that creates fine hair. Rich hair. Bald people of the world, come and find a cure. Montesolo at your service.
But the joy of the two men soon turned to worry as Elmer's hair seemed to keep growing without stopping; in only a few minutes it had reached his waist and after a few more minutes it was down to his legs.
- Mo-Mo-Mo-Montesolo chanted Mr Oldham somewhat agitatedly. And, for the sake of a good question, when exactly do you suppose all this woolly stuff will stop growing? I said I want hair, but up to a point. I don't suppose we'll have any more drabs.
- Ahhh, the barber took an angry turn, no one can find you anywhere. You didn't have any hair and you were complaining. You said you wanted hair and you got it. Now you have hair and you're still moaning. Where's this thing going?
- But I can't walk down the street like this, dare hair notice, people will laugh at me.
- I don't want any nonsense, snarled the barber, we'll let it grow as long as it's going to grow, and then we'll cut it to the desired length.
- Well, if you say so, so be it, said the short man, evidently more quietly. But the confidence of the two men quickly turned again to doubt, for the hair by no means said to stop growing, and not only that this terrible hair growth quickly spread to the rest of Mr. Oldham's body, and the hairs on his chest, arms, legs, and all over his body began to grow at the same rate as the beard, so that he soon began to look like a small yeti.
- Montesolo, the small man growled once again, throwing thunderbolts, I'm going to rip you to shreds.
- Calm down, the barber did, obviously troubled, now I'm going to get the lawn mower.... I mean.... the scissors to get all that muller.
- Quick!!! I'm almost drowning in hair, whined the hairy man. Once and twice the merry barber, brushing aside the rivers of hair, managed to reach the scissors that had earlier fallen from Mr. Oldham's hands, grabbed them and began cutting at a terrific pace, struggling to revive his unhappy customer.
A futile effort! The more he cut, the more the hairs continued to grow, mow and flare up at an unimaginable rate. In no time they had become a veritable sea and the barber was drenched in them up to his knees. Montesolo, what have you done to me? Said the unhappy shorty, who, as he had become, resembled a hairy little mutton-chop, weeping. In a moment the barber was so immersed and tangled in his customer's tangled hair that he could not even move his hands. The hairs had almost given up life and were wrapped around everything they could like climbing plants from hell
It's all in vain! The more he cut, the more the hairs kept growing, mowing and flaring at an unimaginable rate. In no time they had become a veritable sea and the barber was drenched in them up to his knees. Montesolo, what have you done to me? Said the unhappy shorty, who, as he had become, resembled a hairy little mutton-chop, weeping. In a moment the barber was so immersed and tangled in his customer's tangled hair that he could not even move his hands. The hairs had almost given up life and were wrapped around everything they could like climbing plants from hell
- My Pepito, my joy of life, my soul and my light I will never see you again, lamented the barber, before the beard completely covered him. Like a rushing torrent Mr. Oldham's hair poured out of the open door of the barber's shop into the pavement and began to entangle itself in the feet of the pedestrians, wrapping itself around the pillars and even climbing the walls, while Mr. Montesolo's barber's shop was filled to the ceiling with hair, and the friendly barber and his pathetic customer had become parts of a huge bundle of human hair.
Edna, stifled with laughter, having completed her hideous task, at last removed herself from the scene, letting her diabolical spell slowly fade away i.
As she was leaving, some little goblins on the roof of the barbershop, well known to us, had taken up the song and were jumping about like demoniacs.
At Barber Montesolo's
the barber shop on a cold day
Elmer's head all over
He filled his head with a joke ointment
Who would have thought the bald man
That he'd get the fuzz
♪ He'd get a headache
Like a balloon to learn
And then hair and beard
Will grow longer and longer
The scissors and scallops
We're not short of them, fortunately
♪ The barber's gonna get it
And he'll cut like crazy
But he's unlucky too
And he'll be in trouble too
# And if you're looking for him
What this story means
# Respect the bald heads
And don't make jokes
Whoever's lucky enough to have it
A shiny bald head
With it he can live
Without magic ointment
Fortunately it didn't take long for the fire brigade to arrive and rescue the two men. But when they got Mr. Oldham out in a miserable state through all that wool, they found that all the hair had fallen out of him and he was more bald than before. As for his face, it was still wrinkled from the deflowering that had taken place a little earlier.
Still, the little man was glad he had gotten away with it so cheaply and swore on his bald head that under no circumstances would he ever set foot in Montesolo's barbershop again. A decision that changed when the barber humbly apologized to him and swore that he would throw away his demonic ointment and that he would never again be experimented on with remedies of any kind.
But let us leave these two and return to the main person of interest, namely the wicked witch Edna.