Sheep Salon

Solomon Hogg, the pig, kissed his mum at the doorway of his home. His piglet triplet sisters, Maisie, Daisy, and Grace sat giggling at the kitchen table. They’d been enjoying summer break taking apart and rebuilding their grandma’s old typewriter. The fun part was putting the keys back in the wrong order to make funny, mixed up words when they typed. 

“Bye, big brother. Have a nice day at-” They read the word off the typed paper, “ploxbib!” The girls laughed.

“I sure will.” Solly smiled and headed out for his day of special deliveries. He filled his backpack at the FlapOn™ offices. Then he made his way through his route until he had just one package left. It was addressed to Ms Fleece at Woolley Shears Sheep Salon, 678 Pepper Street.

Solly leaned his flapicycle against the front of the salon. A short, old sheep wearing large, thick glasses stood on her hind legs in the doorway. 

“Good afternoon, Ms Fleece,” Solly said. He noticed the sheep’s usual silver wool coat had turned an unusual glowing green. “Looking quite...uh, colourful today!”

Inside, there was a row of old lady sheep sitting in salon chairs. Their wool coats were the same odd shade of green.

“Trying something exciting and new, I see.”

“Oh, no,” said Ms Fleece. “Actually Solly, I think I’m just too old for computer stuff. I seem to have made a mistake yesterday and ordered the wrong shampoo from Sud Brothers.” 

Solly handed Ms Fleece her package and said, “Like my mum used to say, ‘When life give you limes...make lime ice lollies!’”

“You’re so sweet, Solly.” Ms Fleece handed Solly a square of chocolate as a tip. Solly slid it into his pocket and clipped his helmet strap. He got on his flapicycle and headed back down Pepper Street. 

Moments later, there came a loud ruckus behind him. 

*FOOM!* *HOWL!* *BAA!* 

Solly stopped, looked back up the street and watched Ms Fleece stagger out the salon door. Bright smoke billowed out of the doorway around her. All the customers squeezed out after her one at a time.

*PLOOP! PLOOP! PLOOP!* 

Their wool was puffed up twice its normal size. And it wasn't green anymore...it had gone bright orange! Solly blinked in amazement as the sheep stood in silence with confused looks on  their faces.

The next morning in the FlapOn™ office, a group of Solly’s co-workers listened to him tell the story of Ms Fleece’s salon. The delivery birds stood with their beaks hanging open. They all loved Solly’s story...except for the blue starlings, who huddled by the office birdseed bowl.

“Pig in the birdhouse again? Pff!” one starling sneered. “Who’s the pelican gonna hire next? A hungry house cat?” 

“Yeah. It sure pays to be related to the boss,” another starling said.

That pelican is Webster. He’s Solly's boss and uncle. He stood in front of his desk by the large window overlooking the docks by the water. The large sea bird spoke with a toothpick sticking out the side of his beak, “Sounds like they had some excitement on Pepper Street yesterday!” said Webster. “Hope ol’ Ms Fleece is all right. She’s been a loyal, long-time customer.”

“I know. I feel bad for her,” said Solly.  

Midge Pigeon waddled in, pushing a metal trolley of packages for the team to deliver. “Another for you, Solly.” 

He read the address out loud. “678 Pepper Street. Ms Fleece ordered another package from Sud Brothers. Third day in a row. Golly! Hope she gets it right before she loses all her customers.” 

Later that morning, Solly was once again at the Woolley Shears Salon handing a box over to Ms. Fleece. 

“Oh, Solly. Thank you, darling. Hopefully I figured out the computer ordering system. Well. Third time’s a charm they say! Heheh.” 

Ms Fleece handed Solly a peppermint sweet as a tip. Then, he rode down the hill.

Well, within seconds, *FOOM!* an enormous wave of white bubbling foam came blasting out of Woolly Sheers salon and into the street. 

Cars honked! Cyclists swerved! Turtle-taxis overturned and spun downhill on their shells. It was total chaos on Pepper Street. It would take the street-cleaner walruses three hours to hose it all down.

Ms Fleece sighed and taped a sign to the inside of her salon window: “Closed, maybe forever.”

Back in the FlapOn™ offices, Solly filled his backpack for his afternoon deliveries. 

“Crazy thing with the sheep salon this week, eh?” 

Branston Crowe said as he put an elastic band around some big envelopes.

“Yes. It’s awful. Ms Fleece keeps ordering the wrong salon products.”

“Sounds similar to my customers down at Wolfston’s Science Lab. They also ordered the wrong items three days straight. Their lab equipment is all gummed up with sheep soap.”

“Hold on. Wolfston’s? On Pepper Street?” 

“Yeah. So?” asked the crow.

Solly’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the science lab’s address?”

“Um...” The crow flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “876 Pepper Street. Why?”

“Woolley Shears Sheep Salon is 678,” said Solly. 

“So? Same street just a few roads apart.”

“Those numbers are backwards from each other: 678, 876! I might know what’s going on.” Solly scratched his chin. “Those science lab deliveries... do they happen to come from Sud Brothers?”

The crow looked at his paper. “Caw! They sure did.”

Solly rang the phone number on the paper. A scratchy voice answered. “Hello. Sud Brothers hair care and science products.”

“Hello. This is Solly from FlapOn™ delivery. You guys sell shampoo and science supplies, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You sell shampoo to Woolly Shears and science chemicals to Wolfston’s Science Lab?”

“Yeah.”
“Is the keyboard on your labelling computer working?”

“Sure. We just had the keys cleaned last week, in fact.” 

“Did the keyboard cleaner happen to put them back correctly?”

“Uhh. Wait a minute. Oh, dear. The numbers are backwards.”

“So, when you type in 678, it would come out as 876?”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Uh...seems like...yes. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thanks. That’s all.”

The End