Waiting for the Hairdresser

I found this rock looking deeply unimpressed. Like he had been standing there for 400 million years and we were merely the latest disappointment.

Then I looked a little longer and realised what was wrong.

He was furious with the hairdresser.

He had been sitting absolutely motionless in the salon chair for geological ages, and the hairdresser still hadn't managed to position his magnificent white bouffant correctly.

He hadn't asked for much. Just an absurdly luxurious, fluffy, eighteenth-century powdered wig to bring a little softness to his extremely grave stone face.

Instead, he got bear ears!

Apparently, the weather is not the most reliable hair stylist.

Still, he waits.

He specifically asked for volume. Not wildlife. But after 400 million years, changing hairdressers now would seem a little impatient.