BUT I’M ALMOST IN FIRST PLACE!

Caught the last part of an expose the other night on those kids who nearly beat the crap out of you to sell you magazine subscriptions. You know what I’m talking about. You come home and there’s one in your living room sitting in the dark. “I knew you’d show up some time, Mr. Adkins,” he says, swiveling the chair to face me. “I understand how you deterred my associates who visited your office building today- but how do you plan to MAKE IT PAST ME!” At this he jumps up, throwing back his trenchcoat (IN SLOW MOTION) to reveal a gleaming arsenal of machineguns and anti-aircraft weapons.

I dive behind the livingroom wall JUST AS HE SPRAYS A LINE OF BULLETS right above my head. Scrambling for the kitchen, I dart to the pantry, detecting the faint metal clink clink clink of a stun grenade bouncing around the corner! I slam open the pantry, fumbling for a meat cleaver- or skewers- ANYTHING. All I get is a pizza cutter… AND my sawed off shotgun! I dive thru the window into the backyard just as the grenade takes out all the new italian decor Heidi got to redo the kitchen.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Adkins! I’m in second place to win a trip to Tahiti. If you just get one subscription to Vibe or something I could WIN!!! Don’t you want me to win?”

“Never!!!” I scream, just before I raise the Shotgun to pump a few shots backwards over my head into the kitchen, “It’s all a clever rouse- THERE IS NO TRIP TO TAHITI!” and you were NEVER IN SECOND PLACE!!!.” Silence. I begin to backstep towards the shed…

“So…” he begins as he steps from the bushes behind me. “It seems this game of cat and mouse has come to an end.” Hands up, I drop my gun. I know when I’m beat. “I have your checkbook right here- I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of ordering you seventeen subscriptions to Reader’s Digest. With this in the system, I’m sure to win fir- ahhhhh yes, you and I both know there was no contest. BUT this is just enough to meet my quota and keep my supervisor off my back for one more day. Thank you Mr. Adkins”

Bang. One shot in the back. As he falls to his knees in complete surprise a red bead begins to grow on his chest. “That’s for the Italian decor, Punk.” Heidi was just in time- now we don’t have to figure out who to give all those Reader’s Digests to.

By Ed Adkins on February 5th, 2004 at 11:02 am

Topics: Greatest Hits • Mem-wires