It arrived yesterday in a little blue and gray box, tucked inside a Walgreen's bag. My father had purchased a new electric razor, and he was very enthusiastic about it. First, he needed me to open the box. People over the age of 70 can't open containers or packages of any kind. They come from an age of dry goods in glass jars, wooden boxes held shut with tacks, and cardboard. The electric razor was wedged into a piece of plastic, and it pissed him off. After I extricated the contraption, he plugged it into the outlet next to the couch and proceeded to give himself a much needed shave.
Soon after, he observed, "We need a hand mirror." It isn't easy to shave without looking at your kisser. But he did it. He then declared it to be the best electric razor ever made. He said, "This is the best electric razor ever made. It's perfect." I was happy for him, but a stupid argument was brewing.
"Here, you try it, I'm telling you it's a great shave." said Pop.
"I'll try it later." I replied.
There was a pause, as if it took him a moment to take it in. The inconceivable had just occurred. The spectacular, perfect razor didn't impress me enough to use it while sitting on the love seat. I was eating a bowl of Grape Nuts.
"Just try it, it's great." He was insistent.
"If I try it, I'll have to shave my whole face, otherwise I'll have a bald spot." With that, he developed the affect of a deeply disappointed human being.
"So you don't want to try it?" He moped.
"Why can't I try it later? I'm sitting here eating a bowl of Grape Nuts. I don't want to get little hairs in there. And I can't shave without a mirror."
"You could use a shave, though, just give it a try." He wouldn't let it go.
My voice raised, "I will try it, later. Later on I'll try it. Okay? I don't want to shave while eating cereal on the couch, it's just me."
"Fine, so you'll try it later." He radiated a vague impression of anger and bitter disappointment. If he had taken a swing at me, I wouldn't have been that surprised. I half expected him to say, "I wish your mother had had an abortion, you fucking asshole." About five uncomfortable minutes went by. It felt like an argument. An asinine argument.
The Grape Nuts were becoming mushy, and I decided to throw it in. The towel, that is, not the razor. "Okay, I'll try it." Up the stairs i went, plugged it in, and shaved my puss. And you know what? It's a damn fine electric razor.