Trowa woke up. He slowly walked over to the mirror on the wall. His bangs were limp and hanging loosely. "Stupid bangs. I should just cut them off. . ."

He reached for four tubes of hairgel and three cans of hairspray. He started to squeeze out the contents of a tube of hairgel when Catherine burst into the room.

"Good morning sleepy-head! I made us some breakfast! Hurry up so it doesn't get cold!" She looked around the room for a second. "And clean up your room a little. It's a mess!"

"All right mother. Can't you see that I'm busy?!" he said, throwing an empty tube of hairgel over his shoulder.

Catherine pouted. "A simple 'thank-you' would have been sufficient enough!" She watched him style his hair for a moment. "Having difficulty dear brother?"

He turned to glare at her. "Not right now Catherine! I'm not in the mood. My hair is limp, it won't go up like it's supposed to, and I'm almost out of hairgel!" he said, throwing another tube over his shoulder.

"Oh really?" She stepped into the room and stood next to Trowa. "And when have you become the vain one?"

"I'm not vain! Is it a crime to style your hair?"

"Yeah, when it takes you three hours to do it!"

"SO? IT'S MY HAIR!"

Catherine smiled evilly. "Trowa, Trowa. What would you do without your womanly beauty products?" She waited until he wasn't looking at her anymore. Then she quickly grabbed the last tube of hairgel.

". . .Stupid bangs! Why can't you just work with me?" His hand reached for the last tube of hairgel, only to grab air. He looked at Catherine, who was trying to look as innocent as humanly possible. "Ok. Where is it?" he demanded, holding out his hand.

"Where is what, Trowa my dear? I don't know what you're talking about!" Catherine said, smiling sweetly.

Trowa smirked evilly. "So, you want to play it the hard way?" He grabbed a can of hairspray. "Don't make me use this!" He held the can in front of his face.

Catherine stopped smiling. "You're not going to use that! You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh yeah?" He fired a warning spray into the air. "You wanna' try me?"

Catherine looked at him, shocked. "THE OZONE LAYER! YOU'RE RUINING IT! THERE'S A BIG ENOUGH HOLE IN IT ALREADY! IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT ARE TO BLAME FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME GETTING SKIN CANCER! DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THE EARTH? THIS IS THE ON-"

"You asked for it!" He unmercifully sprayed a generous amount of hairspray into her face.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" she screamed, rubbing her eyes frantically. "MANAGER! MANAGER! TROWA SPRAYED HAIRSPRAY IN MY EYES! MANAGER!" She ran out of the room crying.

"Heheheheh!" Trowa laughed quietly and congratulated himself. He looked at the hairspray can, not noticing that it was pointed straight at him. "I am so smart! I am so smart! I'm so smart. . .It even amazes me! I mean, I've never met anybody as smart as m- . . . AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He dropped the hairspray can and fell on the floor, his eyes tearing profusely. He tried rubbing the vile spray out of his eyes to no avail.

Catherine burst into the room again. "THERE HE IS MANAGER! HE SPRAYED HAIRSPRAY IN MY EYES! I THINK HE SHOULD GET PUNISHED!. . .BITE HIM IF YOU HAVE TO!"

"OW! THE BURNING! THE BURNING!" he screamed, spasming on the floor.

Catherine stopped screaming. The corners of her mouth started to curl into a malicious smile. "HA! How does it feel now, Mr. Smarty-Pants?"

"SHUT-UP CATHERINE! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"Fine. Whatever you say brother dearest!" She left the room, laughing all the way.

Trowa said up and sighed in defeat. "Hairspray day is a very dangerous day. . .And my bangs are still limp!"