Grecian Temples
Because I'm getting pretty gray at the temples, which negatively impacts my earning potential and does not necessarily attract vibrant young women with their perfumed bosoms to dally with me on the green hillside, I go out and buy some Grecian Hair Formula. And after the whole process, which involves rubber gloves, a tiny chemistry set, and perfect timing, I look great. I look very fresh and virile, full of earning potential. But when I take my fifteen-year-old beagle out for his evening walk, the contrast is unfortunate. Next to me he doesn't look all that great, with his graying snout, his sort of faded, worn-out-dog look. It makes me feel old, walking around with a dog like that. It's not something a potential employer, much less a vibrant young woman with a perfumed bosom would necessarily go for. So I go out and get some more Grecian Hair Formula— Light Brown, my beagle's original color. And after all the rigmarole he looks terrific. I mean, he's not going to win any friskiness contests, not at fifteen. But there's a definite visual improvement. The two of us walk virilely around the block. The next day a striking young woman at the bookstore happens to ask me about my parents, who are, in fact, long dead, due to the effects of age. They were very old, which causes death. But having dead old parents does not go with my virile, intensely fresh new look. So I say to the woman, my parents are fine. They love their active lifestyle in San Diego. You know, windsurfing, jai alai, a still-vibrant sex life. And while this does not necessarily cause her to come dally with me on the green hillside, I can tell it doesn't hurt my chances. I can see her imagining dinner with my sparkly, young-seeming mom and dad at some beachside restaurant where we would announce our engagement. Your son has great earning potential, she'd say to dad, who would take a gander at her perfumed bosom and give me a wink, like he used to do back when he was alive, and vibrant. George Bilgere