I love guinea pigs. They are soft, cuddly and will let you do most anything to them. I also love the human variety. I have one, you know… he’s 6’2”, kind, intelligent, funny, handsome and slightly balding. However, for the last few years he has been bothered by frequent skin cancers, basil cell carcinomas, detestable defects, fearsome flaws…nasty little things.

I had enough of this endless merry-go-round of doctor’s visits so consulted my enlightened online MD. Concerning skin cancers, of course he advises you to “see your doctor” first, but he mentions a certain root that has had beneficial effects upon skin cancers. It’s apparently produced in some third world lab. Voila! That’s all I need. I go to my trusty computer and search for the lab.

I find a voluminous web page, brimming with all sorts of gruesome photos and testimonials of before and after skin cancers. Rather disgusting, actually, but I persevere. I find the name of my illustrious MD on their website. That’s enough for me.

I ordered it. Not cheap! Fifty bucks for .8 (that’s POINT eight) ounces. Do you have any idea, how small a jar that is?   It arrives and I can hardly wait to try the black, gooey paste on my guinea pig, ‘er, husband.

I instructed him to sit on the commode so I could have a good shot at his bald spot. Wow! I’d never really examined it before. Not entirely bald. This could present a problem with the requisite bandage. I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

But,there, staring me right into the face were two, count ‘em, two little imperfections on that otherwise perfect head. I knew what I had to do.

According the directions one was to smear the paste on the offensive flaw, bandage it, and let it stay for 24 hours. Then remove the bandage…oops, here come that bridge.

This paste had a mind of it’s own. It knew exactly which were the cancerous cells and it immediately went to work on them. Killing, murdering, devouring those little buggers. Ater 24 hours I removed the bandage (that bridge again) and let nature takes its course, where it continued its relentless invasion of the enemy! Cool!

So, we all did our parts. I, the master paramedic, he, the guinea pig/husband, and “it”, the miraculous goo.

After a week I was amazed! One of the foreign flaws had completely healed, all that remained was a small, flat scar. And the other was still in the process but well on it’s way to transforming itself into a minor, boring souvenir of my inexhaustible search for “better medicine in the twenty first century”.