The calendar in our kitchen is a labyrinth of my family’s hectic schedules. Scribbled on to every day are play dates, preschool hours, work hours, doctor appointments, Man-dates, and Girls Night Outs.  And so naturally, my wife and I don’t have a lot of romantic nights together. A few days ago, I came across an Axe Deodorant ad in a music magazine.  The ad was filled with spicy vixens, co-ed shower scenes, and one insanely sexy cobra tattoo. The words on the bottom of the ad said, “Fix Your Mind. Change Your Game.” I decided that Axe Shower Scrub was exactly what I needed to change my game. I was going to inject a little heat back into my life.

Even though I’m not exactly in the Axe Deodorant demographic – I have grey in my hair and use Metamucil on a daily basis – I bought a bottle. I had a hard time selecting a variety because all of the Axe Shower Scrubs promised to be liquid Viagra; Dark Temptation said, “She’ll turn into a man eater.”; Fever said, “When you’re in a party mood, it’s contagious!” ; and the Snake Peel soap said, “Scrub off the skank.” I bought Snake Peel because there was a warning on the back of the new bottle that said after I used the shower scrub, I’d boldly experience something called “The Axe Effect,” a condition that prompted “unrelenting female attention and/or late nights.” There was a very real chance that after using Snake Peel, I could become irresistible to women and end up leaving my wife and family for a life of showering with Brazilian models. In fact, it was even illustrated in the directions on the back of the bottle. The first step showed a shower head sprinkling water. Step two was a picture of a guy with his arms around two bootyliscous women. Apparently, it was that easy: Shower, scrub with Axe, start banging women.  

One night this week, I returned home from work and was my usual grizzled self; my hair stood on end and I reeked of diesel fuel. I went into the bathroom and began my Cialis Shower. Snake Peel was made of desert minerals and cactus oil. At first it felt good. Then I had the odd sensation that it might also be used to strip varnish off of furniture. 

After the shower, I found Sarah sitting alone in our kitchen. I strolled into the room with a Mack daddy pimp limp. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. I got her favorite snack - a bowl of Cinnamon Chex with Soy milk – and set it down in front of her at the kitchen table. Then I slowly brushed my burly working man’s forearm past her nose. Her eyes grew large in alarm.

“What. Is. That?” She asked, wiggling her nose. I leaned in and she smelled my neck. 

Then she shivered with revulsion.

“It’s my new Axe Shower Scrub,” I announced, “Snake Peel.” Then I let out a huge laugh because I could no longer try and be serious. The repugnant smell was giving me asthma.

“Oh, God,” Sarah said, covering her mouth. “You smell like one of those high school boys at the mall.”

“It’s Axe baby!”

“It reminds me of oranges and acne,” she said.

Now that was not in the advertisment.