Abira88, known to all as either Abbie or Sailor Chia, was feeling good.  She had just antagonized a group of lost Sailor NeoPets, aka weirdos to be picked on; gotten to swim in the clear un-Pfish-infested waters of a private beach; tanned quite nicely after basking in the sun for the rest of the day, a rare luxury for one living with Dr. F. Sloth; and won a few thousand NP from the Tiki Tack Tombola.

Therefore, when Abbie strolled down a path among the quaint little Mystery Island shops looking for a good hairstylist, she strutted a bit.  She deserved it.

Opening the door of a little bamboo shack, Abbie marched in.  An old green Kacheek stood at the counter.  "Hello, can I be of assistance?  And would you like to buy a palm fan?" 

"Indeed you can.  Get me the nearest hairdresser."

The Kacheek cocked her head in puzzlement.  "Do you wish me to fetch and bring the hairdresser to you, or direct you to the address of the hairdresser?  Also, would you care to buy a palm fan?"

Abbie shot her a condescending look.  "Get me the address, of course, old lady.  I don't have time to listen to your nonsense, and I certainly don't want a palm fan."

"And what, dear girl, makes you presume I have the address of a hairdresser?  Also, would you care for some pickled olives?  Freshly picked this morning."

"This is the Tourist Office, of course!" exclaimed Abbie in exasperation.  "You have to know where things are!"

"Tourist Office and Gift Shoppe," the Kacheek corrected her.  "We will tell you where all the cheerful tourist spots are, and also we will sell you pickled olives and handcrafted toy sail boats if you wish to buy them."

"Then could you direct me to someone on this island who will cut and style my hair, and stop trying to sell me your stupid sailboats?" seethed Abbie.

"Why yes, dear, I could."

There was a pause.

"What are you waiting for?" demanded Abbie.

"What do you mean?" inquired the elderly Kacheek.

"I mean, why aren't you directing me to the stylist?"

"You didn't ask me to."

"Of course I did!"

"No; you merely asked if I was able to.  I answered.  Would you like to purchase a tiki tack key ring?"

"Aaaaaugh!" shrieked Abbie, and pulled out her orange and black transformation pen.  "Chia Chaos Power, Make Up!"

"You shouldn't go around in a skirt so short, dearie.  It'll give young men ideas about you..."

Sailor Chia started snickering.  Then she all-out giggled, pointing a finger at the Kacheek's desk as orange energy gathered around them.  "Chia ... Giggle!"

Orange energy blasted the desk, sending dust and smoke and debris flying.  When it cleared...

"That wasn't very nice, young lady," said the Kacheek severely.

Sailor Chia stared.  There was a large hole in the desk, but the Kacheek lady looked completely unfazed.  "I'm afraid I'll have to report you to the Chia Police if you do that again."

"AAAAAAAAAAUUUGHHH!!" shrieked Sailor Chia in complete frustration, and, whirling around, tore out of the Tourist Office and Gift Shoppe.  She nearly crashed into the building across the path.

Then she actually looked at the sign on the building.

It read "Spiffy Clips - For the Best in Mystery Island Hairstyling, Come On In!"

Sailor Chia slapped her forehead in frustration.  Then she realized that all the pets on the street were staring at her.

"Well - what are YOU looking at?!?" she yelled.  Nobody answered, but nobody looked away either.

"Chia - Chaos - RUIN!"  The tornado of black energy swept down the street, sending everyone ducking for cover.  Sailor Chia detransformed and brushed off her hands matter-of-factly, then turned smartly and walked into Spiffy Clips.

Inside, a tall anthropomorphic red Zafara greeted her.  "Howdy there, young lady!  What can I do you for?"

Abbie shrugged mildly.  "A haircut and a quality dye job would be nice."

"Sounds great!"  The Zafara flipped through some pages on his clipboard.  "Let's see, that'll be ... approximately a two hour wait."

"ExCUSE me?!" exclaimed a shocked Abbie.

"Two hours.  Is that a problem?"

"Well, yes!"  Then Abbie got an idea.  "Tell me, where are the people who are getting their hair cut now?"

"Well, you have to get it washed first, which happens over there," and the Zafara gestured to his left: a row of half a dozen pets and users lying down with their hair in basins being lathered and rinsed.  "The actual cutters are thataway," and he jerked a thumb in the direction of just behind him, where two other Zafaras and a Wocky were handling scissors.

Abbie grinned.  Stalking over to the basins, she lifted a small Pteri out of one of them and tossed it to the side, where it flapped its green wings frantically and still thudded ungracefully to the ground.  "There!  Now you can wash my hair," she assured the Kougra who was staring at her, astonished.

"Hey, now, little lady, you can't do that," began the red Zafara.

"Says who?" asked Abbie.  "Now," she continued, turning to the Kougra, "wash my hair, and do a good job of it."  She started to lie down on the bench, gathering her pale orange hair into the basin.  As he still looked hesitant, Abbie ordered the Kougra, "Do it NOW or I'll hurt you."

"You can't just throw a little Pteri across the room like that," the Kougra said, flexing sharp claws.

"Chia Chaos Power, Make Up! - Chia Giggle!"

The Kougra was knocked backwards.  "I want my hair washed and I'm going to get it washed if it kills you," Sailor Chia snapped.  "Get to it!"

Using similar scare techniques, Sailor Chia got her hair washed, dried, brushed, and cut into a shorter style that showed off its waviness better - all in record time.  At last she was satisfied with it and went over to the dye station.  A striped Nimmo stood behind the chair.  "Just shade it a darker orange, please," Chia said with false sweetness.  "So that it contrasts nicely with my tan."

"You got it," replied the Nimmo cheerfully.  "Just sit back and relax, and I'll take care of everything."  Chia obligingly sat back and closed her eyes, soothed by the massaging feel of the Nimmo's long fingers applying the dye to her hair.

When she woke up, Abbie realized she was detransformed and still in Spiffy Clips, which was empty.  Outside, the sun had set.  Sitting up, Abbie noticed a note in her lap:

A face framed by deep orange hair on one side and purple hair on the other stared back at her.  There were orange spots on her cheeks.

"Oh Donna," shrieked Abbie in rage, "they've made me look like a SPLIT CHIA!!"...