Facial Mole Assassination

[Obie]

Gentlemen,

Yesterday I gave the dermatologist the contract to assassinate my facial moles on the right flank and the left. He froze them with a medical substance dispensed with aerosol, promising that the dreaded lumps will flake off in about two weeks. I plan to celebrate with a little nip at the single malt scotch. Or two nips, one for each mole.

The Universe served my family an extra helping of facial moles. I don't know what good deeds we committed for the privilege, but the answer lies hidden somewhere in the complexities of the Universe.

What's more, these blasted miniature mounds nest in the most peculiar places on my Hollywood face. The bigger of the two, the size of a small chili bean, has a homestead just below the right ear lobe, a whisper away from the end of the jawline. The smaller mole claims the same coordinates, but on the opposite side. To make up for its smaller size, the left flank mole has drafted a little skin tag a breath away for reinforcement.

These two, or three, obstacles made shaving with the straight razor challenging in the areas of their homestead. I always feared the razor would reach just a little too far and cut them off. Whoosh! Bring on the bandages. Shaving in those areas, therefore, always felt as if I were tiptoeing through a minefield.

No more, I hope, once the assassination job is complete and the blasted razor traps are gone. Goodbye and don't let the door . . .

Ah, the things I do for my beloved shave with a straight razor.

Regards,

Obie