Seriously, this and that story about the junk cheque guy are two things that nobody on the internet should miss.
Chapter 1: Futons
I picked up a copy of the St. Louis Gutterfrump Times at the restaurant where I had lunch today.
It’s an arts and entertainment rag, comes out once a week. You know, a little politics - but not too much, movie listings and that sort of stuff. Usually I just check out the local music section, read a few futon ads and pitch the thing into a corner of my apartment where it sits for a couple of months until I finally get around to pitching it.
The ads are really the best part. Fly Helicopters, lessons start at $79. The Best in Leather-Rubber-Vinyl. Uncle Timmy’s Boudoir. Sounds Right. Custom Car and Audio Store. Great name for a store, huh? This stereo, it sounds right, it works and it’s probably not stolen. It sounds right and it might even be brand new.
The issue was just brimming with ads for cheap futons and I couldn’t resist turning its newsprint-scummy pages. Futon Paradise Ltd… Futons your girlfriend will hate… Really, really cheaply made Futons… Modern Futons…. Futons that sit so close to the floor that you feel like you’re sleeping on the floor. As per tradition I was about to chuck it in the corner when I noticed a completely different kind of ad nestled between the ones for speed reading classes and the “Abs-master.”
“Girlfriend-Express,’ it read. “We’ll find you Ms. Right.”
They were offering to find me a girlfriend for $19.95. I wondered how they could even make such promises. Why does the Better Business Bureau let someone operate such a scam? Why would the Gutterfrump Times even accept their ad? I thoroughly scanned for the catch. I had no doubt that one was lurking somewhere.
The phone number was a local call. Not a 1-800 number. Not a 1-900 number. Nothing that said $5.95 per minute - just one price. I noted that it even had the same first three digits as my own number.
I made the call.
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