
What the shaft cut is happening, all you immaculate wiener-shavers who’re going for that perfect royal garden-maze-worthy hedge at the bottom of your womb-hammer because you’re getting ready for a date, the masterpiece is almost complete but right as you carve the last of your initials into the base of your bush your straight razor slips and suddenly your hands are drenched in gore and ichor, oh fucking NO, your date’s gonna think you were infected by gonnasyphiherpalaids it looks like a goddamn attempted beheading what in the hole-gaping spleen-tickling fuck are you gonna FUCKING DO—
And THAT, my friends, is why you stick with one of those electrical shavers, or just spring that jungle all up in their FACE! It’s a hell of a lot better than something that could be mistaken for a goddamn chainsaw wound!


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