It is probably hard to believe but I’ve been known to
procrastinate now and then especially when it comes to a grimy friend of mine -
personal hygiene. Now don’t distress and get your togas in a twist, there won’t
be any need for a keelhauling on this short voyage. After all I’m not a 21 ton
baby Huey anymore and most of the time I DO double up on the Depends so as not
to drag my duff through the rough, regardless of the load in tow.
Never fear, my bodily burdens are more of the HAIRborne,
nails, and ‘stuff’’ sucked up and stuck
in the grill variety, so that targets me as the charter inductee into the lame Werewolf
hall of fame. I don’t like having these crosses to bear, especially around
hunting season, mirrors, or balloons at children’s parties because trimming twigs
off my trunk and buffing the bark from my bite takes so much time. Since both my
mother and wife apparently have dropped the ball and indignantly refuse to lift
a middle finger to help, it’s clear what I need now is to nab a new man nanny
sans my family’s attitude.
Just think of all the ablution solutions and dermis
concern-less we could have together if I had my very own, grown man ‘nan’ to
care for my keratin. Finally someone I could trust more than All Bran to bring
some regularity into my life and service my rosy personality and other
misbehaving chapped Macaque parts. Who better to tend to the day to day flossing
and saucing of my scaly uncharted cracks and crusty crevices, bushy brows, and double-stuffed
n’ damp snout?
What – you don’t approve? I thought these days society was
supposed to be truly drool-free and completely color blind, so I don’t see why pink
nebbish newborns and gray sulking seniors are the only ones who qualify to be nurtured
and ‘nannyfied’? What’s wrong with a pale n’ pants-less over-grown ‘man-ne-CANT’
service monkey like me needing a little extra claw-clutching comfort from a callus
confidante or hair care Au pair? I still will do all of the heavy lifting like eating 3 squares or more per day and hauling at
least half of my wide load to and fro the commode – uh … at least MOST of the
time.
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