Dawning a Deodorant

I Smell Like a God Damn Lollipop

When life gives you wolf thorns . . .

Oscar Rhea
Doctor Funny
Published in
4 min readApr 7
Smelling pits. (Photo by author)

It should have been a lovely day. It was all so routine.

· Wake up
· Shower
· Tell the cat he’s an ungrateful, good-for-nothing drain on my finances
· Put on deodorant
· Head on out the door

It wasn’t until I stepped outside that my day became a dumpster fire. I was strolling to my neighborhood coffee shop to write this mediocre drivel, when I stopped at a park bench to tie my shoe. Before I knew it, my skin was crawling.

Ants! A double dozen of the little bastards, racing up my legs, straight for the body parts where I’m not supposed to have ants. I proceeded to foxtrot, hoping to boogey them loose, but I could still feel the phantoms of their scurrying feet as I sat down to scribble.

I was all ready to begin writing the next great American novel — I call it The Great Gatsby 2: Nick’s Night Out — when I experienced an unexpected excess of wetness.

“Lulu!” An Alaskan Malamute that was boisterously tonguing my armpit and the owner screamed its name. She was tugging on her leash, but the resolute Malamute refused to follow suit.

“I’m sorry. She’s very friendly. Bad Lulu! Bad!”

I wanted to say ‘Maybe you shouldn’t bring your untrained emotional support Malamute into a coffee shop if she has a penchant for armpit lickin’!’

Instead I said: ‘Don’t worry. I like dogs.’

The muse had moved on, so I closed my laptop and left, my pits still soggy with dog spit. Devoid of creative insight, I thought I’d catch a matinee.

‘Surely John Wick Chapter Four will inspire a masterpiece out of me,’ I thought as I stepped through the front doors of the nearest American Multi-Cinema. I was immediately accosted by burly security.

“Nice try buddy. Ain’t happening.”



Oscar Rhea
Doctor Funny

Mother of three. Medal of Honor Recipient. Heart Surgeon at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. Liar.