The Comb Pire

By Zeaton Rooks

Kent D. Luxe and a hairbrush named Sally Beaty are gathering dust on top of an old dresser. Down to his last dime, Kent's owner Bob tries to sell him, but no one wants a used comb. Instead, they separate during an eviction.
On an adventure, that takes Kent into the sewer, the ocean and finally the beach, a bite from The Mosquito Pire brings him to life. He saves a dying tube of lipstick from melting and then brings his friend Sally to life. Later, on a search for Bob, Kent and his friends discover a dark secret about his old landlord and they try to set things right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zeaton Rooks
• Release date: Jul 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311482174

Zeaton Rooks

Zeaton Rooks was born in 1964 in Roy, Utah. He now lives and works in Richardson Texas. Zeaton is a writer, graphic artist and a big fan of Dachshunds. Felix the mosquito Pire was the first Pires character created over thirty years ago in a middle-school art class. Now after development of over a hundred Pires and other characters, tales on their adventures are just beginning.Join the fun by following all the Pires characters on Facebook and at the official Pires website.

Book preview

The Comb Pire

A tale by Zeaton Rooks

Published by Zeaton Rooks

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2015 Zeaton Rooks

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book and all Pires characters remain the copyrighted property of Zeaton Rooks, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

Thank you for your support.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Comb for sale

Chapter 2: The hair hoarder and a thieving bunny

Chapter 3: Tossed to the curb

Chapter 4: A comb in a strange land

Chapter 5: Stuck

Chapter 6: Life after plastic is elastic

Chapter 7: In the ghetto

Chapter 8: Remorse

Chapter 9: An ugly discovery

Chapter 10: Finding Bob

Chapter 11: The thief trap

Chapter 12: Bad deeds for a just cause

Epilogue

About Zeaton Rooks

Connect with Pires

Chapter 1: COMB FOR SALE

An ad in the sales section of a local online shopping site read: Used comb for sale, shiny, red, freshly washed and no missing teeth. The red comb, Kent D. Luxe, felt depressed. After a lifetime in the service of making people look beautiful, it had all come down to this.

Life as a comb was not always easy. Kent had no feet or arms to get around. However, he was conscious of his surroundings, observing life from the dresser where he often sat next to a shapely, pink hairbrush named Sally Beaty.

I’m afraid this is it for me, Kent said to Sally. I heard Bob make a call and list me on the internet today.

Who lists a used comb on the internet? He must be getting desperate, Sally said.

Kent agreed. All last week, he smelled like he’s been rummaging through the trash for his dinner again. It’s hard to watch him debate whether to pay rent, buy medicine or eat.

He used to be so full of life. How did he get this way? Sally asked.

When I first met Bob, I was purchased as the family comb. His parents called him Bobby at the time. They shared me between his brothers and on occasion, his two sisters when his mother wanted to straighten the curls out of the daughters’ hair.

Sally gave a woeful sigh. That must have been a lot of work.

"The mother made quick work of the older boys, hardly spending more that a moment to drag my teeth through each of their soft, brown, hair-filled heads. It took a lot of her time untangling the girls' hair. Bobby was the youngest and his mother seemed worn out by the time she got to him. His eyes always looked sad as he waited quietly, his hair dripping on a towel around his neck.

She should have used a brush like me for the girls, Sally said. I’m great when it comes to untangling rats' nests of hair after a night of restless sleep.

You would have loved these girls…golden hair on one and bombshell blonde on the other. They grew up to be beautiful women as nurtured children often do. The boys became indifferent though.

How so? Sally asked.

I think they would have rather had a father that was not so busy all the time. He was a stern man, quick to temper. With so many children, burdening him down, I could only imagine how it affected him. He spent his life working, Kent said. I remember how excited Bobby got when his father took a rare moment to groom his hair on a Sunday morning. He even used gel to tame Bobby’s cowlick and I did my best to lift and separate each hair into a neatly groomed masterpiece.

I remember special moments with Marilyn, Bob’s wife, while she was still alive, Sally said. Tears began to well in her eyes and then her voice started to quiver. The day she took me home with me was the most special moment in my life.

Kent gave Sally a wicked smile. I thought that was the day Bob used you to brush the dried gravy out of Pebble's coat, he said, attempting to cheer her up.

How could you remind me of that? Sally said. On lonely days, I still taste dog on my bristles, despite the scalding bath Marilyn gave me after she caught Bob brushing that hound.

In the dark room, faint sunlight crept through partially drawn curtains. On a small bed, with a mattress that sagged in the middle, Bob began to stir. His bony legs contrasted in pale white against dirty, grey socks. He straightened, extending his feet over the edge of the bed. Even the socks looked sad as they hung there limp and half-off his feet.

Kent wished for nothing more than to be able to help Bob shake out of the funk he had been in for the past year. Seeing him is such pain was almost as heartbreaking as the day Marilyn fell and cracked her head on the dresser. Come on Bob, open the curtains today. The sun will do you good, he said. Bob stood as if he heard what Kent had said, and moved to the curtains, giving them a tug—shut.

The room turned a gloomy grey and Bob lay back on the bed. Marilyn, oh Marilyn, he moaned, hugging tight to a soggy pillow covered in a tattered, dirty cover.

We’ve got to do something to make him feel better, Sally said. While he can still walk outdoors, smell flowers and breathe the fresh air, she added.

I’m afraid it’s too late, Kent said. Ever since he went—

Don’t say it, Sally interrupted. I can’t stand that word.

Going bald was a fate worse than death to many men. It meant life had reached its peak and was now sliding downhill. To both Kent and Sally, the word bald had become synonymous with death as well. Some men learn that strength in character has nothing to do with having a full head of hair. Kent pondered back to the day loosing hair affected Bob.

Do you remember that dusty old toupee? Kent asked Sally.

Sally gave a snicker and smiled. Toupee’s and wigs are nothing more than a desperate attempt to cling to youth. I remember how funny it was seeing Bob take off his toupee at night. Marilyn called the brown one with grey highlights on the side Guido.

I think he bought that one used, Kent said. It smelled like stale cigars and tasted like plastic. I found there was never any point to grooming the thing. The shaggy sides constantly stuck out like a middle finger you would give to a bad driver after he cuts you off the road.

It was an insult to his looks, Sally said nodding. Bob was quite stunning as a B.A.L.D. man.

Whatever happened to old Guido? Kent asked.

During the time you were stuck in the drawer, I saw Bob using Marilyn’s flammable hairspray to glue down the lumpy sides of the wig. Later while Marilyn bathed with candles around the tub, Bob went to kiss her and Guido burst into flames, Sally said with a chuckle. Marilyn snatched the rug off his head and dunked the burning pelt in the tub. That night, it went out with the trash along with the curly one.

Bob gave another exasperated moan and Kent felt helpless as he watched him make a feeble attempt to slide into a sitting position. "Come