Benny

     Once upon a time there was a man; nice, but homely.
Benny was his name. Benny was a romantic. He longed for the
ladies to love him. But they did not. They asked favors of
him, they remembered his birthdays, they liked him. But did
they love him?
     No.
     He mourned his situation. Then one lonely evening, he
cursed his solitude.
     In a swirl of sulphurous smoke there appeared in
Benny's living room a daunting figure. It was Old Nick,
Asmodeus, Satan... The Devil!
     "Benny," said the evil one in a sympathetic voice, "I
know that you ruminate upon romance. And you have none. Is
that your problem, Benny?"
     "That is my problem, indeed," Benny replied.
     "I can solve your problem," said the Devil, not
unexpectedly.
     "How?" Benny could not help himself. He was intrigued
despite definite forebodings.
     "Just say the word and you will have all the womanly
willingness you could wish for," said Satan with a smile --
a very warm smile, of course.
     "What must I do in return?" Benny was not ignorant of
these matters.
     "Promise never to cut your hair again. If you break
your word, you will turn into an ugly clay pot... Oh, and
give me your soul," said Satan.
     The last part was slid over so quickly that Benny
almost missed it. But the first part seemed such a little to
give that he said "Yes! Yes!" almost before he realized it.
     "DONE!" exclaimed his Satanic Majesty, and vanished in
another cloud of suffocating sulphur.
     Well, the promises came true beyond Benny's wildest
dreams.
     He was the idol of every lovely lass who came within
sight of him. True, his hair, moustache and beard grew over
time to incredible lengths. But far from becoming a burden,
these hirsute adornments merely drove his admirers mad with
ingenuity. They braided the moustache down into the beard.
They gave him loving corn-rows. They -- well, you get the
picture.
     But at last there came a sweet, considerate, caring one
who had only one fault. She did not like all that hair. She
said she felt lost in a forest when they made love. Get rid
of that stuff or else! she said.
     Benny was stricken. This lady was very special, and
after legions of ladies whom he could love or leave, this
one he adored. The Devil has forgotten all about me, mused
Benny. I will do what I must to keep this One. She is my
true love.
     Fighting back feelings of serious concern, Benny went
to the barber.
     "Cut it all off," he said.
     The barber cut -- and cut, and cut, and cut... Finally
he finished. As he turned to get the mirror to show Benny
the results, the room was filled with a blast of sulphur.
When the smoke lifted, the barber saw in his chair... an
ugly clay pot.
     Remember:  A Benny Shaved is a Benny Urned!