fragrance.”
Thunder Blades suddenly feel much less miraculous. Her product has molecular innovations by NASA . Their knives are merely designed by some national culinary institute.
A colorful array of fruity Os spills across the floor. Lee must be trying to give him a fighting chance by keeping her busy. Or possibly, he is just as amazed by her miraculous product and wants to see more. Either way, it’s a chance for Wyatt to swing the balance of salesmanship back in his power.
He really digs in now, breathing heavily, clattering the knife against the sledgehammer. The customer looks just in time to see an edge of the sledge head disconnect and thud on the floor. Just a slice, but the smallness makes it no less impressive, Wyatt hopes.
The customer lifts his eyebrows and slaps his palms together a few times.
Toucan cereal boxes erupt from the endcap. “See if you can sweep that up, bitch!” Lee says, revealing his secret location.
The woman leans, shifts her weight, rolls her eyes. She walks over to the broken edge of the sledge and slips it into her pocket. Her pants are perfectly fitted, yet somehow she manages to make it disappear just as easily as she produced the gems and nuggets. Wyatt is dumbstruck. All his work gone in a flash, but he doesn’t mind so much. He may very well be in love with the small vacuum woman in the yellow blouse. If only they could combine forces.He imagines an immaculately swept apartment fully stocked with blades that never go dull. Maybe a few toddlers pushing pop-ball vacuums and slicing plastic tomatoes with plastic knives. They’d all go for a drive down smooth California roads, their hearts nearly bursting with joy.
Lee tears open boxes of toucans and flings the contents in furious handfuls. His face is red. His leg juts from his cramped posture into the aisle. Wyatt’s guilt overcomes him, seeing Lee flailing from his hiding spot. Lee already has a family, already has teenagers who’ve grown out of their plastic utensils. Soon they’ll be leaving for college and will need real tiny vacuums and perfectly balanced blades. These things require money, which comes from sales, which come from Lee’s salesmen, whom Wyatt is one of. Maybe Lee hasn’t been managing so great. Why would he be here adding so much pressure to Wyatt’s first day? Why is his face so red, the silky hairs above his ears fraying violently in all directions?
From behind Wyatt’s stand, he hears cellophane rustle and Styrofoam squeak. He turns to see a ripple of packaged steaks in the refrigerated trough. The steaks erupt, and a large woman in an even yellower blouse pops up. “Fuck you, Lee!” She hurls a T-bone at Lee, who can’t move from his cramped hiding spot and takes the meat right across the face. “He’s our sale now. Get over it.”
“You vulture!” Lee squirms, makes some progress, and slides onto the floor like a walrus. “Candy Walton, I should have known you were behind this. When will you stop scavenging our sales?”
Wyatt wonders about their history, whether Lee was once in his position, enchanted by the beauty and grace of the competition, enticed into an affair. He imagines Lee and Candy in a dark motel room kissing passionately. But this is unpleasant, so he skips to the morning after, when their large sweaty bodies touch again in the morning light and recognition of their huge mistake sets in.
Why take chances with your satisfaction? Only Thunder Blades offers a risk-free trial.
The customer looks nervous now, caught in the middle of fiery competition. He sways to the left, but the small woman in yellowpushes the vacuum in front of him, leaving all in her path sparkling and smelling of coconut. He sways to the right, and she’s there again. Spotless floors block his escape.
“Give ’em hell, Wyatt.” Lee hurls a box of toucans at Candy but misses, just before she tackles him. “Use the shearing scissors!” he cries, writhing on the tile floor.
Of course, Lee is
Thunder Blades suddenly feel much less miraculous. Her product has molecular innovations by NASA . Their knives are merely designed by some national culinary institute.
A colorful array of fruity Os spills across the floor. Lee must be trying to give him a fighting chance by keeping her busy. Or possibly, he is just as amazed by her miraculous product and wants to see more. Either way, it’s a chance for Wyatt to swing the balance of salesmanship back in his power.
He really digs in now, breathing heavily, clattering the knife against the sledgehammer. The customer looks just in time to see an edge of the sledge head disconnect and thud on the floor. Just a slice, but the smallness makes it no less impressive, Wyatt hopes.
The customer lifts his eyebrows and slaps his palms together a few times.
Toucan cereal boxes erupt from the endcap. “See if you can sweep that up, bitch!” Lee says, revealing his secret location.
The woman leans, shifts her weight, rolls her eyes. She walks over to the broken edge of the sledge and slips it into her pocket. Her pants are perfectly fitted, yet somehow she manages to make it disappear just as easily as she produced the gems and nuggets. Wyatt is dumbstruck. All his work gone in a flash, but he doesn’t mind so much. He may very well be in love with the small vacuum woman in the yellow blouse. If only they could combine forces.He imagines an immaculately swept apartment fully stocked with blades that never go dull. Maybe a few toddlers pushing pop-ball vacuums and slicing plastic tomatoes with plastic knives. They’d all go for a drive down smooth California roads, their hearts nearly bursting with joy.
Lee tears open boxes of toucans and flings the contents in furious handfuls. His face is red. His leg juts from his cramped posture into the aisle. Wyatt’s guilt overcomes him, seeing Lee flailing from his hiding spot. Lee already has a family, already has teenagers who’ve grown out of their plastic utensils. Soon they’ll be leaving for college and will need real tiny vacuums and perfectly balanced blades. These things require money, which comes from sales, which come from Lee’s salesmen, whom Wyatt is one of. Maybe Lee hasn’t been managing so great. Why would he be here adding so much pressure to Wyatt’s first day? Why is his face so red, the silky hairs above his ears fraying violently in all directions?
From behind Wyatt’s stand, he hears cellophane rustle and Styrofoam squeak. He turns to see a ripple of packaged steaks in the refrigerated trough. The steaks erupt, and a large woman in an even yellower blouse pops up. “Fuck you, Lee!” She hurls a T-bone at Lee, who can’t move from his cramped hiding spot and takes the meat right across the face. “He’s our sale now. Get over it.”
“You vulture!” Lee squirms, makes some progress, and slides onto the floor like a walrus. “Candy Walton, I should have known you were behind this. When will you stop scavenging our sales?”
Wyatt wonders about their history, whether Lee was once in his position, enchanted by the beauty and grace of the competition, enticed into an affair. He imagines Lee and Candy in a dark motel room kissing passionately. But this is unpleasant, so he skips to the morning after, when their large sweaty bodies touch again in the morning light and recognition of their huge mistake sets in.
Why take chances with your satisfaction? Only Thunder Blades offers a risk-free trial.
The customer looks nervous now, caught in the middle of fiery competition. He sways to the left, but the small woman in yellowpushes the vacuum in front of him, leaving all in her path sparkling and smelling of coconut. He sways to the right, and she’s there again. Spotless floors block his escape.
“Give ’em hell, Wyatt.” Lee hurls a box of toucans at Candy but misses, just before she tackles him. “Use the shearing scissors!” he cries, writhing on the tile floor.
Of course, Lee is
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