Charlie sat in the chair in the plastic surgeon’s office. He tensed himself as the needle slid into his facial muscles.
Nothing wrong with having a little work done, he thought.
Charlie was 56 and was feeling every day of it. But the new BMW helped. Some hair plugs, a few nips and tucks here and there, and he could go after all of that sweet, young tail.
The next morning, he stared, horrified, into the mirror. His face was bone white, lips red. Flaming orange hair stood out from his head.
Maybe the Bozotox was a mistake after all.
Nothing wrong with having a little work done, he thought.
Charlie was 56 and was feeling every day of it. But the new BMW helped. Some hair plugs, a few nips and tucks here and there, and he could go after all of that sweet, young tail.
The next morning, he stared, horrified, into the mirror. His face was bone white, lips red. Flaming orange hair stood out from his head.
Maybe the Bozotox was a mistake after all.
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