Mellow Yellow Episode 17: A Conversation

TICK, TOCK, and QUINN are having a conversation in the Velvet Mines.

TICK: So, Quinn? How did you get your hair like that? (Touches his ropey-lopey hair.)

QUINN: Mary was REALLY bad at doing my hair.

TICK: How bad?


TOCK licks wall in anticipation.

QUINN: Ok, I’ll tell you… It all started a long long long long long time ago…

TICK licks TOCK in anticipation.

QUINN: When I was young, Mary used to always pay attention to her training and had no time to watch over me. I would do extremely dangerous things because she didn’t watch. That’s why I finished college so young!

TICK and TICK are snoring.

QUINN (grossed out): And then…

TICK and TOCK lick the wall.

QUINN: I got my normal hair stuck in a giant tub of caramel! The caramel was beaten out of a snowy egret that I tackled while Mary was making evil plans.

TICK: That’s weird!


TOCK: (Licks TICK) How are we weird?

QUINN: Why are you licking everything like it’s a popsicle?

TOCK: It’s a trick that we learned from Pippie Senpai. And it’s made of cake.

QUINN: Whatever! So back to my story, after my hair got stuck in the caramel it clumped together in ropey things. And that’s how my hair came to be!

TICK: Oh really? Are you sure that you didn’t just make that up to explain to us “uneducated individuals” that you were just born with natural hair?  (Pulls on his hair sharply.)


TICK pulls a bit more.

QUINN: The story is completely real!

His hair pops off, revealing a downward-pointing arrow on his forehead.

TICK and TOCK: ARE YOU THE AVATAR? QUINN (embarrassed): No, no, this is just an arrow indicating of which way I should put on my wig. The caramel burnt it away. (Pauses, and then whispers) Don’t tell anyone, okay?

JOHN waltzes into the room.



TOCK (to TICK): I’ll protect you Asami!




A Stream of Thoughts|Beards

Hello nonexistent readers!

These posts where I just write down whatever I’m thinking turned out to be a lot of fun, so I’m turning it into a series!


It will be called “A Stream of Thoughts”.

Today’s word is “beard”.

Do people wash their beards with shampoo? I mean, it’s hair. Or do they use soap because beard hair isn’t on the head?

Or do they have special beard soaps?

If so, why is it beard soap and not shampoo? But I said soap, so it could be shampoo. Or it could be something else entirely, like zingblitelle. But both soap and shampoo start with an “s”, therefore, it only makes sense that the beard-washing substance would also start with an “s”.

So it would be “singblitelle”.

What happens if one thought leads to two others? How would I organize that in a post? Could I make a flow chart?

How would I make a flow chart?

I’m straying off the topic of beards. But I don’t know all that much about beards. I don’t have one. “I don’t have one” made it sound like a beard is a pet. I suppose it could be. Pets are furry. Beards are furry. But what is the beard equivalent of a fish or a cactus?

Dumbledore has an impressive beard.

Do people brush their beards? Are there special beard brushes?

I met a man who braided his beard once. He was nice.

I know that there was a man long ago who died because of his beard. I’m not entirely sure if I accurately remember all of the facts, so I probably shouldn’t put my possibly incorrect information on the internet, but oh well.

So there was a man long ago who died because of his beard. His beard was really long and he’d keep it in a little pouch, but one day he didn’t put it in his pouch and then he was running for some reason or the other. I can’t remember why he was running, though. Was he running just for the fun of it or away from something? If I had to guess, I would say he was running away from something and that something might be a fire. Not sure though, so don’t quote me.

But anyway, he was running and he tripped on his beard and snapped his neck.


Pirates have beards.

My old math teacher had a beard.

Dumbledore has a beard.

Let’s talk about Harry Potter now. So I read Harry Potter over the course of 2017. I was pretty late to the game, as most of my classmates had read Harry Potter in either third or fourth grade. So while I was in the process of reading it, for some reason, it seemed as though everyone was talking about nothing but Harry Potter. Specifically, who died. So before I finished Harry Potter, I had a list of everyone who died and who lost their ears.

Going back to pirates. I haven’t read many books about pirates.

Well, I’m going to end abruptly now. I haven’t been able to find a good way to end these posts yet. I mean, a stream of thoughts will continue on and on for hours.


P.S. I know the picture is a mustache and that a beard and a mustache are different things. But I just really like that picture. And you know what? It’s close enough.

(Not) Brushing Your Hair

When I was little, I absolutely detested (and rarely) brushed my hair. It was so painful. Like stabbing porcupines into your skull. (I had the fine-toothed combs.) I was (and am) one to favor comfort over fanciness, so I never brushed my hair. Maybe once a month if it was a lucky one.

I didn’t like it when my mother brushed my hair for me because it always hurt more so than if I were to brush my own hair. Therefore, when I was forced by my mother to brush my hair, I would pick the lesser of the two evils and brush my own hair.

But I never did it well enough. I never really tried. So it always looked the same before and after I brushed it and my mother would insist that she do it again herself.

I never did well enough because “brushing hair well=pain,” so I shirked my brushing duties and usually only brushed the top layer of my hair.

So I thought of a new idea to get rid of the accursed knots in my hair.

I would brush my hair myself, and whenever I came across a knot, I cut it out.

Eventually, I did learn to like brushing my hair.

In fact, I loved it.

This sudden change in attitude to hair-brushing was due to a very special brush. It came in a craft kit and it was a little compact brush that you could put sequins on. AND THIS BRUSH DIDN’T HURT!

I was mystified. I was entranced. I was lost in the magical depths of this hairbrush.

I would spend all my waking hours brushing my hair until it was really soft and shiny and people commented, “How lovely. I wish I could have hair as lustrous as yours. What shampoo are you using?”. (I didn’t use shampoo that often.)

But this time of ignorant bliss was coming to a close.

We went on vacation.

I was in the bathroom, brushing my hair when the brush flew out of my hand and fell into the toilet.