It was the day of Azula's coronation, and everything was going wrong. "All right, hair. It's time to meet your doom," she growled, taking a pair of scissors to her unruly bangs.
"What a shame. You always had such beautiful hair," came a soft voice from behind her.
"M… Mother?" Azula stammered, disbelieving. She set down the scissors and stared into the mirror. "What are you doing? But while you're here, could you, like… help me with my hair?"
"Sure thing, sweetie," Ursa said.
Minutes later, Azula had the gayest haircut the world had ever seen. She looked like she was about to declare the Fire Nation a lesbian commune (which, in her opinion, was much better than declaring it a stateless playground for the capitalist class like Zuko had always wanted, or a communist dictatorship like that peasant girl Katara). One side of her head was shaved, and the other had been cut short and dyed rainbow. She wasn't sure how she was going to wear a topknot now, but she didn't care because she looked fly as hell.
"Fucking dope, Mom," Azula breathed in awe, running a hand back across the shaved portion of her scalp. Her day had just gotten much better. "Thanks. I'm gonna be eating pussy three meals a day looking like this."
She turned around to hug Ursa, but she'd vanished. Confused, she checked the mirror again, and there she was, sitting peacefully and holding the scissors.
"Wait, if you're just a figment of my imagination, then who gave me this haircut?" Azula hissed.
"Smoke weed every day," Ursa said, taking a hit on a phat blunt and promptly dissolving.
"All right, what the fuck," Azula muttered to herself. "Someone's getting executed for this."