More Gummer!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  No Houses
Duh!

Submitted: September 23, 2015

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Submitted: September 23, 2015

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From Last Post:
 
The miles unwound behind them in moody silence, which was just fine with both. Neither one felt like making conversation. Clem was reflecting on the fact the damn car had lasted so long. As he was just finished marveling at this fact, the engine coughed once, black smoke began pouring out from under the hood and obscured Clem's view, so much so he had no choice but to slam on the brakes. He somehow managed to pull the car to the shoulder and stop. "Shit, you morphadite sum bitch, you hunk of upchucked scrap metal!" he screamed.
 
"Great, now what, Clem?"
 
He started to make a scathing reply, but he caught himself. Del couldn't help his stupidity. "Now we walk to the town that the sign said was 15 miles ahead."
 
"Walk? In this weather?" For it had just begun pouring buckets. "Isn't there another way?"
 
"Sure, sure there is, I can start walking, and you can just sit here and wait for the cops to show up!"
 
"Oh, okay, well start walking, like you said."
 
You know, for a 10 cent head on a 5 cent neck, you're about a 7 cent idiot! Clem thought. "Okay, smart choice. Let's go!"
 
******
 
After walking for what seemed to be 50 or 60 miles, they slogged down the main street of Road Flare City. No shit, that was the name. Why, Clem didn't have a clue, nor did he care. He just wanted someplace to get out of this rain. Beside him, Del was the very image of despair. He looked like a drowned flounder. He'd forgotten that flounders lived  in the water, apparently. It didn't matter to Clem, anyway. Nor did it matter that flounders were flat, whereas Del wasn't even close.
 
"Now what, Clem?" Del asked. Clem considered punching him in the spleen, but decided it wasn't worth it. Look at him--a flounder with legs! "I tell you what, why don't you just walk into Road Flare City Motors, tell them we're two escaped convicts with no money, and I don't see why they wouldn't give us a car, and say pay us when you can!"
 
"Where do you see Road Flare City Motors, cause I sure don't."
 
Clem looked at him, and said, "I'll be damned, the foreheads of morons really do slope, big time--I didn't believe the psychiatrists!"
 
Del's face crumpled and fell, leaving Clem once again feeling like a schmuck. "Never mind me, I'm just in a bad mood. I'm not sure what we should do know. I know I'm starving. I've got the two buck license plate commission for making 7,500 plates the state so graciously gave me in my pocket, how about we duck into The Road Flare Cafe over there, and get us sumpin' to knaw on, sit, eat, and think?"
 
New******
 
"Will there be anything else?" asked the pissed-looking waitress. 'Trixie' her name tag said.
 
"No thanks, Trixie, the crackers and ice water should do it.  Frankly, I'm a bloated whale."
 
The look she gave him was withering, and she huffed and turned on her heels and stormed away. They had asked for menus, took one look at the prices, and decided to pork on the basket of complimentary crackers on the table, drink water, and save their money, not that they had much of that. "Ready to go?" Clem asked Del. Before Del could answer, they were interrupted by a man wearing a 3-piece suit.
 
"Pardon me, gentleman, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversations, and you, sir, have just the voice we've been looking for, sort of a good old boy meets Wall Street. Have you ever thought of a career in radio?" he said, pointing to Clem.
 
"You're shitting me! Me?"
 
"No sir, I'm being totally serious. We need a spokesman for 'The Gravy Hut Restaurant', and I think you'd be perfect."
 
"Well, I'll be a sum bitch! I'm flattered, but we're not from around these parts and we're trying to get..." Then, he realized they were broke, and had no car. Just how did he think they were going anywhere? "Ah, exactly how much does the gig pay?"
 
 ******
 
 And so, he and Del found themselves in the studios of WREEK Road Flare City Radio.  Ned Flannel, the name of the man in the 3-piece suit, and also the owner, DJ, and janitor of the station (in other words, the ONLY employee of WREEK, was saying into the headphones that Clem had clamped to his head, "All you have to do is read what's written into the microphone."
 
"All righty, then, I'll give it a try." He still couldn't quite believe this amazing turn of events. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he'd give it a go.
 
"Okay, wait for me to say go, then start reading what's on the paper."
 
"Sure thing, Mr. Flannel."
 
"Okay, just give me a sec to start recording--and begin."
 
"Oh, you mean right now?"
 
"Yeah, any time you're ready."
 
"Oh, okay, um--'Are you and your wagon train buddies looking for a great place to round up some tasty vittles? Well, are you in luck. Circle your wago--"
 
"Hold up, there. Put some excitement into you voice. You're trying to make people want to try it out."
 
"Oh, okay, but just reading the script is tough, because I don't talk this way, it's unnatural to me."
 
"Well, you don't have to follow the script word for word, put some of your personality into it."
 
"Well, I'll try it again then."

"Okay, ready? Roll 'em!"
 
"Are you and your wagon train buddies looking for a great place to round up some tasty vittles? Well, yee-haw, are you in luck! Circle your wagons around one of our tables, and are you sum bitches in for some fine porking!  'The Gravy Hut Restaurant', located right here in Road Flare City, right across the street from, 'Commander Cody's House of Worship and Weapons', is the place.  Yes, that's 'The Gravy Hut, Home of the Mountain Man Six-Pound Double Cheeseburger,' yee-haw! Once you taste our food, you'll say, "Sum bitch, that's some tasty sum-bitchin grub!..." and he went on from there until he was finished reading the rest.

When he was done, a dubious-looking Flannel said carefully, "Ah, different, and not exactly what we're looking for, can you do it again?"
 
Clem was pissed now, and he threw the headphones on the desk, and replied, "Screw this! I didn't want this job in the first place. I'll figure out another way to make us some money!" and started to storm out.
 
Flannel quickly said, "I'll tell you what I'll do, we'll air this late tonight, where the damage will be minimal, okay?"
 
Clem wondered, who's this 'we' shit? You mean YOU'LL air it!  "Oh, okay, I'll stick around until tonight."
 
******
 
At 2.30 in the morning, when Flannel figured the damage would be minimal, Clem heard his voice come out of the speakers. It sure doesn't sound like me, he thought.
 
The next morning, Flannel braced himself for the complaints, and sure enough, precisely at 9.00 when he arrived at the station, the ringing telephone sounded. He slumped even more in his chair, braced himself for the abuse with surely would follow his greeting, and answered the phone, "WREEK, this is The Captain speaking, what can I do for you?" The Captain was his on-air persona.
 
"Yeah, Captain, what's the name of the guy who did the narration for 'The Gravy Hut'  advertisement that aired early this morning?"
 
Oh, no, it was going to be a long day! "We're terribly sorry, that was a joke ad that we did while we were testing the sound levels--it should have never been aired--it was a mistake, and we apologize."
 
"For what? I'm calling to let you know how refreshingly honest it was, instead of the homogenized crap we normally hear. My name is Biff Collins, and I'm the president of The No-Shit Network, and we may be looking for a new voice of the network. We'd like to talk to the man about possibly hiring him."
 
******
 
And so, Clem and Del found themselves in New York City, as guests of The Know Shit Network. After talking to them, he'd been hired as their new spokesperson. It had all happened so fast, they couldn't believe it.
 


© Copyright 2020 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.

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