Danger: Windswept Toupée
Freeze-frame: Let us halt globular golfer Goldy Gerschmacken before he tees off. Note his windswept toupée lifting gently from his wisply-stubbled pate in the summer breeze.
Now: Let us advance 3 years into the future: Goldy is in his underwear, perched atop a paper runner atop a vinyl-upholstered examination table in the second interview room of dermatologist Dr. Don. Goldy feels like he has been punched in the gut; he has just heard from Dr. Don those three awful words basal cell carcinoma.
Along the bridge of his nose, in thin and tanned twin collars about his upper shins, and under the normal shade of his false hairpiece Goldy has sprouted a number of bccs.
Rewind the calendar, and it looks like poor Goldy should have opted for a) slightly longer and baggier khaki golf shorts, or b) slightly higher lemon yellow golf socks, c) a bit more zinc oxide or higher SPF on that schnozz, and d) a glue-down wig.
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