Nap Lapkin’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve (part 4 of 4)
(originally posted 1/1/2018)
Later, as they went up the elevator to enjoy the rest of their New Year’s Eve, Chance took a deep inhale. Given the size of his nose, it was a lot of information for him to take in.
“You have a rather unique choice of colognes Nap,” he began. “I’m usually pretty good at recognizing fragrances but I just can’t place yours.”
He took another long whiff.
“Bleu by Chanel?” he inquired.
“Nope,” replied Nap.
“Paco Rabanne’s Invictus?”
“Acqua Di Gio from Giorgio Armani?”
Nap shook his head.
“Yves Saint Laurent L’Homme Ultime?”
“Creed by Aventus?”
“Did you really pick up a fruity bouquet of Corsican blackcurrant, Italian bergamot, French apple, royal pineapple, birch, and patchouli? You’re better than that Goodrod,” said Nap coldly.
“Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb?”
“What about my scent leads you to believe it is a contrasting yet complementing mix of chili, saffron, leather, tobacco, vetiver, bergamot, grapefruit, elemi, and pink pepper?” replied Lapkin contemptuously.
Bearing down harder, Chance sucked in another lungful of Nap.
“I’m getting mint leaves, lemon zest, tonka bean, amber, vanilla, cedarwood, vetiver, and oak moss. Versace Eros?”
“Wrong again. Your nose is as useless as a dick on a eunuch … just much bigger,” laughed Nap.
(For fans of the Inception book series, a eunuch is a man who’s been castrated. For people who read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, castration is when a man’s balls are cut off.)
(Are you fucking kidding, Manion? You spend 210 words listing men’s colognes for no discernible reason whatsoever and you’re going to disparage other authors who dare to actually have a purpose for including something in a story? Writers who are actually successful because they come up with a plausible plot and spend time doing things like reviewing what they’ve written for errors. Are you jealous or just stupid?)
“Jean Paul Gaultier Le Male Maxi?”
“Only the Brave from Diesel?”
“Nope. And if you guess Polo, I’ll punch you in the windpipe,” Nap said in a manner that indicated he wasn’t kidding.
“Pheromones for Men by RawChemistry?”
“Do you think I need a patented blend of human pheromones to get laid?” Nap said in a manner that indicated that he was actually contemplating punching Chance in the windpipe for such a transgression.
“Lalique Encre Noire? Valentino Uomo? Maison Martin Margiela Replica Jazz Club? Come on, Nap, give me a clue,” pleaded Goodrod.
At that moment, the elevator door proceeded to slide open revealing Madonna Axion in a short red dress with a plunging neckline. She breathed in ever so gently and looked Chance Goodrod in the eyes.
“Michel Germain’s Sexual Paris Pour Homme Eau de Toilette… with a hint of Black Suede,” she said, then took Nap’s hand and led him out into the mayhem of Times Square.
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