Izzy’s curly hair was dry as chip. It felt like a bird’s nest or a bale of hay, no matter what she tried to do with it. Frizzy Izzy! they used to call her in high school. Frizzy Izzy! her coworkers yelled from across the hall. Izzy was a little fed up so she googled “how to moisturize my dry hair”, and that’s how she found coconut oil.
Coconut oil is magical and cures everything that ails, everyone said. Just rub coconut oil on any problem you have and it will go away.
So Izzy bought a tub of 100% virgin coconut oil and started putting it in her hair, and the coconut oil tamed the frizz and made her hair look juicy and lustrous and she got all kinds of compliments and nobody called her Frizzy Izzy anymore.
Izzy was riding her bike and some asshole crossed against the light and she had to brake so hard, she flew right over the handlebars. She ended up with road rash on her cheek, a deep gash in her elbow (THAT’S gonna leave a scar, she thought), and a broken leg. Izzy couldn’t afford a hospital bill because she didn’t have health insurance and she lives in America where they just leave people to die or suffer if they can’t afford healthcare, so she sat on the curb with her broken bike and cried because what else could she do?
But wait… she thought. Izzy took a dab of coconut oil and rubbed it on her leg and her face and her elbow, and lo and behold, her bones knitted together, her gash healed without leaving a scar and her face was smooth again. She patted some on her trusty bike too and after a few minutes it looked like brand new. This must be magic, she thought as she rode home, whistling a happy tune.
Izzy decided to rub coconut oil on all her problems. From her cantankerous old boss (he gave her a 70% raise), and her unappreciative boyfriend (he bought her diamonds), to her petty thief of a best friend (who returned all her ‘borrowed’ dresses) and her savings account (which then increased by 120%). Wherever there was a problem, Izzy rubbed coconut oil on it and it went away.
One evening, Izzy was at home watching the news on mute. She always muted the TV when he was on, but even the sight of his smarmy orange bull frog face enraged and infuriated her. The more she watched him, throwing paper towels at people who needed much more, the more furious she became. But hold on, she thought. Isn’t he a problem that we all need to go away?
Izzy booked a ticket to the Florida Keys. When she got there, she covered herself in coconut oil so she would be invisible and then slipped through all his security. She searched for him from room to room and knew she was getting close when she smelled the overpowering smell of Old Man Sweat. When she peeked around the door and saw him sitting there, painting his nails with glossy top coat, she leapt into action and flung a gob of coconut oil right in his face. SPLAP!
He looked at her for a second with his squinty little eyes and then, suddenly, POP! He imploded in a whoosh of cheeto dust. He was sent hurtling to another dimension where he spent the rest of his days hearing people laugh specifically at his very tiny hands.
His second in command came running in to see what was the matter and FLADAM! Izzy whipped some coconut oil in his direction and suddenly he decided to quit his job and spend the rest of his days selling artisanal ice cream on a New York City street corner.
Izzy strolled casually out of the resort and made her way back home, chuckling to herself.
Coconut oil, she thought. This shit is magic…