'Even the Amazon needs a little manscaping.'
One unlucky Rock listener recounted their horror run-in with some hair removal cream, sending in the yarn to Jay and Dunc on Rock Drive for the rest of us to enjoy.
To be fair, probably can't even call them unlucky because they should have read the instructions. Anyway, they found out the hard way that hair removal cream and your nether regions don't exactly get along.
Watch the yarn unfold like his dry red skin below, or have a read of the full yarn if you can stomach it!
It was a cold and rainy July morning. There was nothing to do other than doom scroll through my phone on social media. After doing this for several minutes, I was drawn to this ad selling the dream of having smooth crown jewels without the pain of shaving and nicking your scrote while screaming the Lord's name.
I promptly ordered this miracle cream, promising the removal of the hair down in my nether region, pain free! Leaving it resembling a Mexican hairless cat. A few days later, the package arrived. I quickly teared open the box with excitement, and proceeded to lather up my ghoulies.
With this white and strange smelling miracle white paste, I laid it on thick to make sure I didn't miss a single hair follicle, which is difficult when twisting and turning your manhood to leave nothing behind.
Did I read the instructions? Well, yes.
Did I read them quickly? Yes.
Was it a big mistake? Abso-mother -heckin-lutely.
I experienced slight burning down in my man therapy session and thought 'she'll be right'. I manned up and repeated to myself, 'No pain, no gain.'
After 10 minutes of my ghoulies being marinated, I jump quickly into the shower to wash away this miracle paste. I was surprised it dissolved my rhododendron along with some of my skin. I panicked as I was screaming like a toddler in pain and dousing in my junk with cold water from the basin.
I walk out of the bathroom and into our bedroom, where my partner was watching TV. She looked at me, confused as I proceeded to present her with my burnt bits. She put her hand over her mouth in horror and said 'Shit! What the hell happened?.'
I proceeded to explain what happened and asked for 'Heeeeeelp'.
She helped me get a cold flannel to calm down my angry red demon frank and beans, and then proceeded to giggle as my ghoulies shriveled. They looked like a cocktail sausage, accompanied with two kalamata olives. 30 minutes later, after the cool relief of a cold flannel and some pain medication (and Bepanthen which is usually used for babies bums), I was now cool as a cucumber - except for my cucumber, which was still recovering from the trauma.
I should have known something was up when I read the packaging after.
'Manscaping, because even the Amazon jungle could do with a little landscaping.'
Unreal stuff.
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