Wigged Out

...So I had Weight Wizard organize my collection of ancient romance comics the other day while I steered the ship around a pesky asteroid belt. (When is the United Planets gonna finish cleaning that shit up?! Sure, a spaceway crew was on the scene in their orange spacesuits but there was maybe one guy working while six other people were just floating there, drinking coffee.) Suddenly I hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet and sure enough it's Weight Wizard all out of breath and clutching my copy of "Heart Throbs" #130 (DC, February-March, 1971).

"Here's the dealio," he panted. "I really think you oughta buy one of these!" He presented the back cover, which had a full-page ad for...

"Give me that!" I growled. He meekly handed me the crumbling periodical and I swatted him in the nose with it. "I don't wear wigs," I thundered. "I tell other people to wear wigs!"

Weight Wizard turned pale, but with an eager smile plucking at the corners of his mouth. "But--!" he ventured.

"But what?!"

"Well... I figured maybe you could wear it on top of your cowl. Like the original Captain Marvel! ...Marvel Universe version, of course."

"...That's actually not a bad idea." I have to confess I always liked that look, with the big blond sideburns on the outside of his mask. What? Of course he wore a wig! His real hair is dark brown and curly, and it's massive. Kind of a 'fro, to be honest.

I held onto the comic and after I'd steered us all to safety I studied the ad some more.

Let's see... I already am "bewitching" and "daring". Admittedly, "winsome" and "demure" would be new ones for me but I'd just as soon not, thank you very much. And I often make a "split-second change to a new personality." Just ask Weight Wizard! ...Although now that I think about it, I'd be more accurately described as "bi-polar." Let's see... blah, blah, blah, "surprising new adventures"... "life of the party"... yeah, been there, done that. And I've never heard of this "Sarnel" fiber before. Is it any good?

Oh, it's not. You've failed to impress me, wigmaker! Still, you may show me your wares, for my own amusement. BEGIN! *imperiously snaps fingers* (I just made a split-second change to a new personality!)

Ah, the "I'm incubating a nest of possum babies in my hair and I don't care who knows it" wig.

The "OMG Carol Burnett is teh sexy" wig.

Wow. So they let Steve Ditko design a wig!

I didn't know they still had flappers in 1971. I'm guessing a grandma ordered this one and she jitterbugged in front of her mirror until she broke a hip and collapsed onto the floor, yards away from a telephone. When her family came around to check up on her weeks later, they found the granny dead on the floor with her cats lapping at her corpse and her dog wearing the wig. ...Cripes. That was morbid, wasn't it? My apologies. Let's forget this ever happened. Next!

The "Melted Beehive!" She thought she could rival the height of Night Girl's hair! Little did she suspect that Night Girl's hair has heat vision.

And finally...

Party out back, business up front. Unfortunately, the "party" is an Antebellum cotillion circa 1855, with slaves and everything. Gross.