Well, I solved the hair problem. I got laser removal over my whole body at once, with one big giant laser beam. And boy did it hurt. They gave me those tanning goggles to wear so as to protect my eyes, but I thought I looked like a boner with them on so I cast them aside.
"You're going to want to wear those, Mr. Jass," the nurse said. (I'd told her my name was Hue Jass. Hehehehe...) I told her to eat me, or something impolite like that. I don't know. It's not up to me to keep track of every impolite thing I say. That's unrealistic and I don't have nearly enough space to keep the records.
Anyway, she sighed and rolled her eyes and walked away. And later overcharged me. It's ok, I deserved it. I've been pretty cranky for a while and it was wrong of me to take it out on an innocent hair-removal assistant. I tried to apologize to her later, and she said it's ok and started telling me she's been having a rough time too. I thought we were having a moment so I went in for a kiss, and that's when she hit me with a black jack. I thought, "Really, a black jack? That was unexpected." But I didn't get a chance to voice that because her boyfriend, the hair-removal doctor, was pounding the crap out of my face when I woke up. I don't think he's a real doctor.
The point is, the size of this laser was huge. I mean, it got my whole body. I look like one of those people with Alopecia. You know, like a hairless freak. Also, I have no idea how to spell "Alopecia". I don't care. That's another way I'm insensitive towards people afflicted with Alopeesha. Which I look like I have now.
Naturally, my first thought was "Yes!" because now I have a huge advantage as a swimmer. That was after I had the thought about looking like a freak. I hadn't really been a swimmer before, but now that I was smooth as a dolphin that had been sanded down and waxed, I figured I'd have a leg up on somebody. Just one person, for christ's sake, give me one advantage on somebody. I was also reminded of how much I wished I was a dolphin. That made me sad. Then I remember how they often suffer horrible deaths at the hands of tuna fishermen. That cheered me up, because that's not happening to me right now. But then I got sad again, because hey, I have some empathy. Then I thought about using my wiener like a shark fin, so it'd be the only thing people saw coming for them as I back-stroked towards them in the ocean. And that cheered me up quite a bit. "Heeheeheehee," I thought. "Heeheeheehee."
"What's so funny, Mr. Jass?" asked that phoney hair-removal doctor. That cracked me up.
"Nothing. I was just thinking funny stuff. I wasn't laughing at your terrible, weak mustache or your high-pitched girl voice, if that's what you were thinking. Although, hahahaha, it's a very funny voice."
"Mr. Jass, I --"
"Bahahahahaha! Hoooo.... Hahahaha! Hehehe, hoo, ha... hoo... whew. Ha..."
"Are you done, Mr. Jass?"
"Ha! Stop! Hahahahaha! You're killing me!"
That went on for a quite a while. In fact, we didn't get any work done that day because by the time I was done it was 7pm and time for him to go home. I was his first appointment of the day. He had to cancel everything else.
A few appointments later we finally got the job done. The trick was, he knocked me out with a black jack. I asked if that's where his assistant got his. He said after my first appointment they got two, so that either of them could strike me with one at any time. I gotta say I respect his forethought.
If he'd left the room to go get a black jack, I probably would've gotten bored and wandered across the street to get pizza. I'd done it before. The only reason I don't do it now is because they said I can't come in with a hospital gown and no underwear on anymore. I told them, listen I'm a paying customer and I deserve the same respect as every one else. All they said was to "please cover my scrotum. This is a Chuck E. Cheese and blah blah blah..." They don't deserve my business anyway.
So, as you can imagine, the hair-removal "doctor" was none too fond of me by this point. I tried to patch things up with a Hallmark card, but I accidentally got him a funeral card. So it was weird when I winked after he read it. Only made things worse.
I should've worn those boner-looking goggles, because now I don't even have eyelashes. It looks like there are tiny mouths around my eyes. Now, I find this attractive, but it seems like ladyfolk don't. I know because I thought the assistant and I were having another moment when she handed me the bill, and she hit me with a black jack even harder that time. And I woke up to an even more brutal onslaught. I should probably sue or press charges or something, but I don't want to get the cops or courts involved because of the "Hue Jass" thing, which is called fraud. But it's damn funny. Way more so than hitting me with a black jack. I mean, come on, seriously? A black jack? You probably have to special order those from some 1920's weapons memorabilia catalogue or something. I don't know - an "obscure weapons that no one will believe you have" catalogue. Some kind of catalogue. Maybe online.
I need some eyelashes.