Ms. Fiona and the Wig

So I was messing with my profile thing, and selected a random question... It asked me to tell a story about a bald frog with a wig. This is what I came up with, and then it had the nerve to tell me my story had to be less than 150 characters. Hogwash.

There once was a frog who owned a wig- her name was Ms. Fiona. Her wig was the talk of the bog, styled in such a way that was reminescent of a 20's flapper-doo. It suited Ms. Fiona quite well.
One day, as Ms. Fiona was swimming to visit some family far down stream, she came across a salamander whose foot was caught under a rock. Now, Ms. Fiona was a good hearted frog and so she stopped to help the salamander free from the rock. She then assisted him to the shore and began talking with him.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
"Just a little scuffed and sore," he answered in a gruff voice, "But not a lick broken."
"Oh, that's so good to hear. My name is Fiona."
The salamander, occupied with wiggling his toes, answered, "Name's Solomon. Nice to meet you. Now, if you don't mind I-"
Solomon stopped short as his gaze came to greet Ms. Fiona's. He tilted his head and looked quizzical.
"...What is it?" She asked, confused about his expression.
"Uh.." Solomon sat up, "What's with that?"
"What?"
"That." He pointed to her wig.
"Oh! .. Well, it's my wig."
There was a moment of silence. "A wig."
"Yes...?" Ms. Fiona's heart fluttered and she reached a hand up on top of her head. Did it get messed up? Was there something wrong?
Solomon folded his stubby arms across his chest, "Now what do you suppose you need a wig for?"
Ms. Fiona stammered, "I.. well.. I, uh.." She sighed and looked to the ground. "Well, I'm bald."

There was a moment of silence as the salamander stared at her. Suddenly, he chortled.
The poor frog couldn't believe it! "Stop that, what are you laughing for??" She could feel her cheeks become hot with embarassment.
Solomon covered his mouth, but couldn't stop chuckling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"No, it's not funny. It's very embarassing!" She started to get up to leave, "I help you and then you do this to me!"

Solomon jumped up, "No, no. Don't go. Hey, Ms. Fiona!"
She stopped, almost in the water.
"Hey, I'm sorry, really. But, where you come from, does anyone else wear a wig?"
Ms. Fiona turned and gave him a nasty look, "What do you mean?"
Solomon winced at the look and answered, "Well, think about it. I mean, I've never been up the river. Does anyone else where a wig up that way?"
"Of course the-" the frog stopped. Wait, did anyone really wear a wig? "Well..."
"Well?"
"..." Ms. Fiona hesitated. "Come to think of it, no one else does..."
"No one else does?"
"No."
A smile creeped across Solomon's face, "So... is everyone else bald?"
Ms. Fiona was silent for a fe moments. Solomon pointed to his own head: slick and shiney with mucous, and without a strand of hair. Ms. Fiona looked up as if in thought about the wig.
"Now I'm no frog," Solomon began, "but if I were, I could say that you're pretty enough on your own without that silly wig."

And you know, from that day on, Ms. Fiona realized she didn't need a wig after all.