Contributor’s Note: Dr. Fleece is the Disney-appointed Chairman for the Study of Raccoons Milk and Its Soothing Effects on Agrizoophobia at Pomona College and has twice received the eminent Daisy Duck Emotional Maturity Award. He has authored several books including his latest, Examining Freud’s Theory of Beard Envy: The Sordid Sea Tales of the Gorton’s Fisherman, and is a regular contributor to the Northeastern Wisconsin Journal of Medicine. He currently resides in Claremont, CA where he’s cultivating a mid-playoff hockey beard under the supervision of his wife and esteemed University of Phoenix Adjunct Professor Cassandra “Mama Cass” Fleece.
No longer can you roam shirtless about your yard, master of your domain, without an influx of assorted syrup-drenched Little Debbie snack cakes lobbed over your fence and the din of childish cackling comparing your man suit to that which takes a dump in the forest. The flames of marital passion have been extinguished to the black smoke of a papal succession ritual on account of a hairiness that draws comparisons to everyone but Charlton Heston in Planet of the Apes. But before you slowly drain the family funds on wax kits, disposable razors, and industrial-sized bottles of Drano, consider prescription TuftAway®. TuftAway® is available discreetly from your doctor who can ascertain from your knuckle hair that there’s no need to bother with the rigmarole of trying on a gown.
TuftAway® is only for those who’s heart and wife are healthy enough for sexual activity since your wife’s been pawing up the hairless Maltese pup like it owes her money. Side effects include a decreased interest in picnic baskets, fear of public landfills, and a newfound kinship with seals. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not handle prescription tablets of TuftAway® lest their child morph into the infant incarnate of Clint Howard.
Ask your doctor if prescription TuftAway® is right for you and look for their ad on specially marked packages of Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies.