Poor Peeved Phebes

Phebe was pissed. "I can't believe she did such a terrible job. I mean, I went through all of that pain and the hair is still there. It literally looks like I never had it done."

Just like every second week of the month for the past three years, Phebe had been going to the same lady for a Brazilian wax at a clandestine, semi-questionable top-floor salon in Soho. All of their services were dirt cheap but generally they did a good job, and Phebe was always happy with the quality of Helena's Brazilian wax services.

"And of course, this had to be the time that I get it done the night before I leave on a trip to the Bahamas with Steve, when it's really going to matter. Now what am I going to do?"

"Poor Phebes," thought Chloe. "She really got the full wrath of the bikini wax gods this time."