THE MAN YOUR MAN COULD SMELL LIKE
Day Eleven
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5I1t5m_N3k&list=PL6F8281C4E6897AD4&index=11
A Short Old Spice Christmas Story
It was a rather chilly Christmas Eve, and I’d spent my evening at a jazz club in Chicago with Old Spice’s Director of Marketing, Director Wolfdog. We were also accompanied by Terry Crews and Bruce Campbell. As we sipped on our eggnog, enjoying the smooth sounds of Christmas jazz and discussing the meaning of life, my striking brown eyes happened to land on a stunning lady sitting alone in the corner.
“Bruce, do you have any body spray on you?” I asked Bruce Campbell.
Bruce looked at the woman, then back to me, and back to the woman, and back to me. His lips curled into a devious smirk. “What do you plan to do?”
“Talk to her, of course.” I replied.
“You’ll need Swagger body spray.” Bruce told me.
“I have some on me right now.” I responded.
“Well then,” Bruce began, “if you have it, you don’t need it. If you need it, you don’t have it. If you have it, you need more of it. If you
have more of it, you don’t need
less of it. You need it to get it. And you certainly need it to get more of it. But if you don’t already have any of it to begin with, you can’t
get any of it to get started, which means you really have no idea how to get it in the first place, do you? You can share it, sure. You can even stockpile it if you’d like. But you can’t
fake it. Wanting it, needing it, wishing for it…the point is, if you’ve never had any of it, ever…people just seem to
know.” He lectured.
“Well, one spray does last all day.” I mused.
“Then what are you waiting for, lady killer? Deck her halls with your charm. Go on.” Bruce decreed.
“Do it!” Terry insisted.
I looked to Wolfdog for his input. Wolfdog stared at me. “Do you even need advice? You’re the Man Every Man Could Smell Like. You are
the ladies man.”
“You’re right.” I told Wolfdog.
“You’re welcome.” He replied.
I approached the lady with legendary confidence. “Hello, lady.” I said to her. Now having the opportunity to observe her up close, I was truly mesmerized. Her thick, long black hair waved down to just below her well-defined shoulders. Her dark, smoky brown eyes pierced my very man soul. Her chocolaty-brown skin glowed radiantly in the dim lights of the jazz club.
“Hi,” she replied with an unparalleled smile.
“I’m the Old Spice Guy. But you can just call me Guy.” I said, introducing myself.
“Nice to meet you, Guy, I’m Bridgette.” She said with a giggle. “You’re…not wearing a shirt, Guy.”
“Nope.” I acknowledged.
“It’s really cold out there.” Bridgette observed.
“Well, if you really hold me tight, all the way home I’ll be warm.” I answered wittily.
Bridgette laughed and clasped her hands around her mouth to try and contain it.
“Bridgette, there is something I have to say. You’re gorgeous. I’d like to get to know you as a person, as that’s what matters most.” I began quite bluntly. Bridgette was taken aback by this, but in a very good way. Her lips were locked in that lovely, pearly white smile. “I baked you this pie,” I continued, giving her a freshly baked pecan pie, “and roasted you this Christmas ham.” I finished, holding up a spiral-roasted Christmas ham on a silver platter.
Bridgette flustered. “Wow, thank you.” She told me, looking down at the pie and ham in her hands. When she looked back up at me, she took a few steps back and gasped.
“I’m on a horse.” I told her, as diamonds spilled out of my palm as I sat saddled on an elegant white horse.
“You’re on a horse…” Bridgette echoed.
“Now here’s a special Christmas gift just for you. I thought only of you when I made the purchase, you’re welcome, Merry Christmas, I love you.” I said to her, handing her a box filled with something that I knew she’d love, carefully wrapped in candy cane wrapping paper and topped off with a green bow.
“Thank you again…” Bridgette said, marveling at the present.
“At this point it’s probably obvious to you as it is to me that we are in a long-term committed relationship. And in order for our love-filled-trust-explosion to continue, and prosper, the next step is wildly obvious. To you. Because you’re a woman. So tell me what to do next.” I explained to her.
Bridgette, wiping away her tears of laughter, love, and total confusion, caught her breath and sighed. “How about a date?”
“Yes, I agree. Let’s do it.”
We toured the North Pole, had a snowball fight with Santa’s elves, baked gingerbread houses, watched a plethora of Christmas movies, and ended the night in a meadow where we built a snowman. We named it Parson Brown.
“Are you married?” Parson Brown asked us.
“No, man.” Bridgette said to him. Her lips curled into her compelling smile again. “But you can do the job while you’re in town.”
To possibly be continued…take notes, men…
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8S8DOwYvdc
