Two college chums (one male, one female) walk into a beauty shop. An overmade-up saleswoman assists them.
“Are you shopping for someone?”
“I’m shopping for him,” Mar said, just to be silly.
“And I’m shopping for me,” said I, sillier.
“Wellllll…,” the salesgal mused. “All our men’s supplies are over here.” There was a single shelf. All the bottles were blue or brown, whereas the women’s shelves were virtual rainbows.
“Honey, it’s our school colors. Blue and brown,” Mar cooed.
The saleslady plucked a blue bottle. “This is our best seller.” It appeared to be a bottle of water. “Aftershave,” she explained. “A refreshing splash.”
“How is it refreshing?,” Mar queried. “I need to know.”
“It stings a little. It wakes you up in the morning,” the salesperson replied.
“It’s supposed to sting?” Mar behaved bewildered. “Doesn’t that mean it’s affecting his skin badly? That it’s not working?”
“Of course not,” said Ms. Sales, icily.
“May I try some?,” I politely grabbed.
“Of course. Here’s the tester here.”
Mar knew at once what would happen. This is why I love her.
I splashed and gave a pause for effect.
“YOOOOOWWWWWWW! AHHHHHHHH! HOOOOOOOOOLLLLY CHHHHHRIIIIIISSSSSTTTT!,” I said, slapping hysterically at my head.
It was actually quite a few seconds before we were asked to leave.
“Did I clear the store?,” I asked Mar.
“Of men, yes,” she answered. “Not hard to do.”
“You never give me the satisfaction, do you?”
“What’re you going to do about it—splash me?”