Allow me to share the tale of how I procured this tincture from the jungles of the Americas!
My journey began with an invitation sent from a fine lass, Miss Melody. She was a debutante adventurer, born to wealth, yet forged by the fire of exploration like myself!
Truly, I was charmed by her, yet unsure that even a buccaneer such as myself could ever hope to lasso her into marriage. No ordinary woman was she! Miss Melody spurned the life of domestic tranquility. Her family made their fortune in the lumberjacking of rubber trees, and this saddled her with guilt. The local natives were asked to move from locations they had thrived upon for generations, and Miss Melody found this an affront to her kind sensibilities.
She telegrammed my offices in San Francisco, inviting, no, begging I shall say, that I help her and the locals she chose to fight for. One had to admire Miss Melody’s tenacity, to battle the forces of capitalism, and defy her father all at once. Still, I hesitated. Miss Melody may have harbored passions for me, or perhaps not, it was a mystery. Often times, one is merely guessing if the female persuasion is corresponding as they are sincere in their affection, or it may just be she enjoys the attention or seeks free use of a man’s capabilities. How very unlike Chet Manly, to not know either the truth or which path to pursue!
I looked at my handsome self in the mirror, jutted my chin and proclaimed: “Have at it, good man! Only by taking a risk does one find fortune, be it in business or love!”
And thus I found myself in a native village, surrounded by primitive yet wonderful people, adorned with paint on their bodies and bones of animals adorning their jewelry. Miss Melody knew that her robber baron father would soon be coming to claim these lands! The final threat had been issued, Miss Melody’s father said henchmen in his employ would arrive shortly to remove the natives from their land by force!
Were this not enough to prepare for, but my skin had reacted stubbornly to the jungle clime!
Humidity, combining itself with my own sweat, caused my very pores to clog! Tiny black dots filled my skin, most hideously! But the local Witchdoctor knew to cure the ailment, with what I can only describe as an exfoliant. Certainly, my soaps are the greatest in the known world, but for facial situations such as this, an entirely new application is used in removing these black-headed detritus from the skin!
It worked! The Witchdoctor gave my manly visage a pristine glow and smoothed my skin as if I were a bronze statue!
But another enemy lurked, for there, in the jungle mists, were the bloodthirsty henchmen!
What chance did I stand, so many of them, armed with clubs and sharpened blades?
And the Witchdoctor offered yet another local treatise, a white powder derived from mashing of leaves! Being that I did not speak the native language, the Witchdoctor motioned I should snort the granular substance in my nose. What an odd custom! There was no time to question it.
I tooted it like an elephant would drink with its trunk, and was infused with a surge of energy and single-minded confidence. Not that Chet Manly needed a boost of any kind, but this candy for one’s nose was a devilish spell! I tore into those henchmen as if they were made of only paper! Roaring and swinging, I beat them to holy hell, and the few who remained standing limped quickly away!
Miss Melody was most grateful for my triumph, and we stayed awake for days, sometimes engaging in passionate relations, but also gibbering wildly in conversation, with a steady supply of the Witchdoctor’s powder.
So let it be known, Chet Manly will purge your pores of its own trapped oils!