|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
May. 16, 2015 - 9:53 a.m.
My Chinny Chin Chin
The original plan was supposed to be: NewWifey(tm) would shape my facial growth to look like this, we'd go out to dinner to see how many people did double takes, go shopping afterwards and do the same, then home so she could ravish Seneca Crane. Again. The next morning I'd shave the beard off, we'd have a good laugh, and she'd go back to being ravished by good old - beardless - Dangerspouse. At least, that's how it was sold to me.
In reality it went like this:
We got home from dinner and shopping, had a good laugh, she fucked Seneca Crane, and we went to sleep. The next morning I got up, showered, and grabbed my razor.
"Wait!" NewWifey(tm) said. "I dare you to go to work like that tomorrow."
"What?" I said, "Honey, that wasn't in the contract."
"Well it is now. C'mon, what are you worried about? You're on the radio, not TV."
"No. It was a goof last night, but I don't want anyone I actually know seeing me like this."
"I triple dog dare you."
Well, that sealed it. Just like in the movie, in our marriage a "triple dog dare" cannot reasonably be refused. It is so compelling, in fact, that we vowed early on to never use it unless it was practically a matter of life or death. Or sex - NewWifey(tm) has invoked it twice to get me to acquiesce to some base carnal whim of hers at the time ("Really, honey? A butternut squash??").
So the next day I went to work looking like a middle aged "Hunger Games" cosplay fanboy loser. I know that's what I looked like because that's what all my co-workers called me. Radio people are not known for their tact. If they were, they wouldn't be in radio. By the end of my shift I was ready to don a burqa just to shut them up. I drove home intending to immediately scythe every last whisker on my face and then burn those whiskers to ashes.
But as soon as I opened the front door I was met by NewWifey(tm). She was wearing nothing but knee pads and a smile.
"Heeeeey Seneca. Waddaya say?"
"Forget it, Honey. Seneca is about to go bye-bye."
"Aw, come on" she whined. "I wanna play 'Bite the Pillow in District 8' again!"
Who could refuse that? Not me. The manscaped beard stayed on all day Monday. And Tuesday. And every day last week until the chafing on her inner thighs finally got so bad she couldn't even fart without wincing.
"Ok, I'm done playing" she said last night. "You can shave tomorrow".
So this morning I showered up, grabbed my razor, and lathered up.
"Wait!" she said.
"I want it off, but not all at once. Lets see you in a goatee first!"
She still can't - or won't - keep from drawing blood when she trims me, you'll notice. But otherwise, she did a pretty good job. Still, I can't say I like the look. I was just about to suggest we scrap the whole thing and just jump right to "clean shaven" when she said -
"Oh my god, I have always wanted to fuck Burl Ives!"
"Burl Ives?" I said. "The snowman from the "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer" cartoon?? Honey, he was fat, and his goatee was white."
"Close enough!" she said, and grabbed me by the collar.
I guess the goatee will stay for a few days now, since NewWifey(tm) really had fun joining in all the twisted reindeer games she could think of. Still, even though less fuzz on my cheeks helped a bit, the chin growth continues to abrade. So:
"I think I'm gonna trim you back to just a mustache next time" she said. "Did I ever tell you I've always wanted to fuck Mr. Belvedere?"
Brace yourself, Clifton Webb....