"Oh, man, look at that thing. Damn, and it hurts."

"I see you talk to the mirror, too."

"Dude, I took out a chunk."

"You're not kidding. Whoa, that's a mean looking gash over your kisser."

"Yeah, and I've a date tonight."

"Ooooooo . . . not good."

"Chick's not gonna kiss me with that thing."

"Unless she's Dracula's daughter."

"No way, dude. She's a great looking chick."

"Maybe you can just hold hands."

"I ain't holding hands with the chick."

"Well, I'll tell you, friend, no chick's going to chow on that kisser."

"You're telling me, dude. Ah, man . . ."

"What on earth did you do to yourself?"

"Shaved this morning."

"Use an ax?"

"Nah. Got a great razor."

"I can see that."

"Not one of those you got."

"Straight razor."

"Yeah, those. My grandpa had one. No way, dude."

"Then what kind of a razor do you use?"

"Best razor in the world."

"Really?"

"Smoothest. Greatest shave."

"I can see that."

"Five blades, dude."

"That many blades, eh?"

"Doesn't miss a hair."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't."

"You oughta' try it."

"Oh, absolutely."

"And it vibrates."

"Vibrates?"

"Vibrates, dude."

"Well, I'll be. You have a razor with five blades and it vibrates."

"Chicks love it. Face smooth as silk."

"Yes, except maybe for the chewed up kisser."

"Dude, you're killin' me."

— Obie Yadgar