Venterdämmerung

Brünnhilde adjusted her fanblade Viking helmet in anticipation. The star soprano couldn't wait for her debut in Wagner's latest. She was born for this part, and she knew it. She had even changed her first name to match her character.

She had preferred the old model, with its real ivory horns, shiny GE symbol on the motor, and flashy metal fan blades. This new model had plastic horns, a plastic motor cover, and plastic blades. Safer, they say. "Yeah, I suppose," she spoke quietly to herself, feeling under her wig to the bald spot where the previous helmet had ripped out a sizable chunk of hair. And it was true that while the three-bladed fan wasn't as stylish as her old two-bladed helmet, it would certainly keep better balance at speed, and wouldn't have to spin as fast to generate the perfect frequency of choppiness to her full, sopranic voice. And hence the fan motor was lighter, which meant the counterweight could be lighter, as well, for which her aching neck was thankful.

Still, the old one had history. She had watched her mom wear it in performance time and time again. Once, as a youngster, she had donned it and flipped on the motor while no one was around. Not knowing enough to secure the chin-strap, Brünnhilde, (then Bobby Jo), received a nice gash in the cheek from the spinning metal blades. Stunned, she had forgotten to wipe the trickle of blood from the guilty blade, now bent. She got quite a whippin' from that incident.

One last look in her compact case to fix her blush, and the star was ready.

"One minute..."