Big Cat Uses Spray Deoderant, May Be Significantly Older Than Previous Estimates

Moments ago, I heard a series of short hisses emanating from Big Cat’s corner. His desk looks like a gypsy campground that received word that a flash flood was imminent, so they left everything behind in search of higher ground. We all looked up and saw him spraying his armpits with a canister of spray deodorant.

I did not think that anyone born after the Louisiana purchase owned a canister of spray deodorant. With one exception: sometimes you’ll see families with severe spider infestations purchase the stuff to use as a homemade blowtorch for mitigating their problem. Otherwise, spray deodorant, to my knowledge, could only be found in the locker rooms of country clubs. And even then, it was only used by ancient, stooped men who tucked their wife beaters into their dumpy, skidmarked whitey-loosies after logging 6 minutes on a barely-moving treadmill.

One time, I had no choice. I had just finished 4 sets of squash against an aggressive female, and I was heading out for a date. After my shower, I realized my armpits were ready to pour because I hadn’t stopped sweating. I popped the cap off a spray deodorant and gave it a go. Within seconds, my armpit hairs had stiffened into a petrified forest of orange stalks. It was like a frost had fallen over a hayfield. The hairs were so sharp and stood so firm that I could not rest my arms by my side. I spent the evening walking around with ILS (imaginary lat syndrome).

PFT called Big Cat on his deodorant. He couldn’t understand the fuss. Others chimed in. The office was divided. Some saw no issue with the fact that Dan was grooming with products from the Depression. But those who hope to see him upright for a few more decades warned of the slippery slope down which he’d started. One day, you’re buying motor scooters as part of a gag; the next day, you’re settling into an arm chair that becomes your bed because the bed doesn’t have a bar above it which you can use to pull yourself upright.