HUMOR
The Wolfman Gets a Full-Body Manzillion Waxing
From Halloween to howling-sheen
Every year for Halloween, the were-wife and I travel to London to raise a little hell. During one trip, we were walking in the rain in Soho looking for Lee Ho Fook, our favorite Chinese place (the beef chow mein is to die for!), when we passed a waxing spa offering a special on “manzillions.”
For centuries, my better half, Luna, has complained about my unkempt body hair, so she started breaking my hump about getting waxed. She even offered to forgo next year’s trip to Paris, which was fine by me since last time they blamed us for that whole “Werewolf Epidemic.”
I’m about 400 years behind the times, but if Frankenstein’s Monster could get a facelift and my BFF Dracula could get orthodontic bleaching on those bloodstained canines, I figured, “Why not keep an open mind about this hip metrosexual vibe?”
When we walked into Soho Manscapers, an elderly woman, Grandmama Addams, who had even more hair than I did, led me down the hall as I ripped off my clothes and prepared myself for the horror show.
As her daughter, Morticia, heated the wax, I was getting nervous. “You don’t wax ‘down there,’ do you?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she replied, “you purchased the Deluxe Wolf-Manzillion.” I bit my…
