West Street
[Babs Seed]
She admires her self administered manecut in her bedroom's provided mirror, seesawing her head here and there to watch the sun bounce off of it in varying angles. Sure, chunks of hair are absent, peppered holes dotting here and there, but for her first time handling barber's scissors with bare hoof, she thinks it's a style true enough to the haircut of Marelyn Manson himself. He is Babs' favorite performer, after all. She has found comfort in the fact that, after a day chafed by bullying, the corner music shop on West Street would be waiting for her, familiar headphones connected to a plethora of sample music. Nopony from her school bothered to visit such a store due to the axing of the music program, and with the need for instruments now dispersed among the student body, it was more or less one of those few safe havens she could hide from the world in. The cutting of her mane, hopefully, would change a little of that.
She knows how silly it is, this little unspoken fantasy of her's, but maybe, if all else fails, she can bring a piece of the music shop with her wherever she might venture.
AN) It all started out with a little Marelyn Manson pun and a theory about Babs' unorthodox haircut, and here we are. I hope this made sense; being limited to two hundred words is very little for one to go off on, you know.