Monthly Archives: June 2011

Knock! Knock!

Well hello there, ma’am! Beautiful evening. Isn’t it? Gorgeous moon! Just Gorgeous. Well, yes, I guess it is a bit late… neighbors must be sound asleep by now.

Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Charlie Walker, but my friends call me Chuck. Anyhow, I was just taking a nice stroll around your lovely neighborhood and decided to stop by.

Well now, you got a nice house here, ma’m. Look at that parlor! You got your telephone and your combination phonograph radio and even state-of-the-art RCA television console. The wood paneling in this place is exquisite! Gee wiz! I bet with one of those singing fish on the wall, this place would look as classy as a German hunting lodge!

But do you ever feel you’re missing something? That you’re lacking that one-of-a-kind household item without which you question your lifestyle, your self-worth and your decision to not drive your children to the lake with a stomach full of Valium and release the emergency brake?

Well it just so happens that I represent a product that can fill that void.

That’s right, ma’m. I’m here to give you an opportunity to be one of the first women on your block to own a Certified, Genuine, Guaranteed 100% Authentic Rotting Corpse for the low, low price of just fifty dollars!

Whoa now! Looks like you shut that door right on my foot there, ma’m. Just hear me out, you wouldn’t want to shut old Chuck out in the cold night, would you? It’s dangerous out there, ya know. Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to call the cops. Phones lines are down. Didn’t anyone tell you?

But just think of it, ma’m: The ab-so-lute luxury of the world’s finest corpses right in comfort of your own home! Don’t want to take my word for it? You don’t need to! Why not ask the trendsetters at Better Homes and Gardens, who called Rotting Corpses, “the must-have item for every modern woman?” Or the fine ladies at Redbook who called them, “the sexiest accessory to come out of third wave feminism?”

Hell, even those stuffy old fuddy duddies down at Consumer Reports who pooh-poohed that fine asbestos insulation you got in this house just couldn’t stop clowning around with theirs in time to write the article for their summer issue!

That’s right, my good lady. I’ve got a selection of the finest quality Rotting Corpses on this side the New Jersey landfill and I want you to buy one. You got your pick, cuz I got all kinds of corpses! Young, old, male, female…hell we even got some Italians (if that’s what you’re into). Harvested by experts, dug up by hand and aged in finest barns under the Oklahoma sun, these corpses are guaranteed to change the way you live!

What do they do you ask? What don’t they do more like it! Golly, there’s no end to the ways a Rotting Corpse will enhance your quality of life.

Need a conversation starter at the next bridge club meeting? Flop one of these babies right there across the card table! It’s sure to spark off hours of conversation! Kids acting up? Try our “Tough Love” model: It scowls and points an accusatory finger at your little ones while a hidden tape recorder plays the phrase “I’m going to drag you down here with me.” Those little devils will think twice before trying to sneak their veggies under the table to the dog at dinner time!

Your husband’s in the mood but you got one of your “headaches” again? Why risk a black eye in the morning when you can just turn out the lights and let a Rotting Corpse do the work for you?

But why keep your amazing new purchase inside when you can put it outdoors for the neighbors to envy? With the right accessories, your corpse will make a swell scarecrow, perfect for keeping dogs, cats, and those pesky neighborhood Catholics off your lawn!

I can see you’re skeptical, ma’am, but just follow me here. These aren’t just any old, run-of –the-mill, cut-rate, fly-by-night corpses. No, these doozies here can and will alter the course of your life.

Still not interested, huh? Well that’s okay, because these corpses aren’t just for any Tom, Dick, Harry or other commie-loving traitor. No sir! These puppies are a symbol of status.

Look, ma’m I…I don’t want to be a gossip, but I just thought you should know. I was down at Fred and Margaret Cunningham’s the other day, and well, they just bought two more! That’s right. They got one swinging in every room in the house!

And let me tell you, it isn’t Margaret’s whipped-salmon-casserole parfaits that keep the who’s who of the John Birch Society coming back to her potlucks.

But you still don’t want one? Really? You sure, ma’m? Because I’d sure feel bad about not letting in on this once-in-a-lifetime offer.

No? Okay…that’s just too bad. A shame, really. Say, is the man of the house home? No? Well when do ya think he’ll be back?

That’s a few good hours. Say… look at you….what are you? About a size six? About five-three? Yeah, yeah well I’ve been getting some orders for the shorter ones….yeah with the brown hair and the green eyes. They love green eyes….

No ma’m. Well sorry to barge into your house like this. I won’t be but about 30 minutes. It used to take less time… Jesus! Hold still you crazy dame!… but I bought the cheapest stuff from that crooked piano-wire salesman!