h a l f b a k e r yNice swing,
no follow-through.
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Roland lay prone, soaking up the rays from the solarium lamps.
The dryer head of the Brushin' Revolution passed over his shoulders and down his back, tickling slightly with jets of warm air.
Then came the good bit: A stiff-ish brush that left the skin with a healthy pink glow and all of the hair
(in Roland's case, thick, matted, black hair) on the back and thighs pointing in the one direction. It felt so good, and left his coat all sleek and shiny.
Coyly, Roland rolled over onto his back, as the brush reversed rotation and began the trip back up, from his feet.
This was the fun part, thought Roland, as his mind wandered off.
Tomorrow, Roland would showcase the device at a solarium operators' convention. It was bound to do well with the current "Bear" market.
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Odd, somehow I always knew Roland was a bit short, pudgy, and covered in back hair. |
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Oddly, that's how I've always imagined him, too... like a furry George Costanza. Aren't stereotypes odd? |
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