IV. Li’l Box of Love: A Supplementary
Edu-tisement and Info-motinal Insert, Courtesy The Parent

Li'l Box of Love

ONE

Up in the warehouse of the Novelty Factory, The Salesman, wearing a mask of fame, gagged Rena with a plum. Rena almost-woman million-dollar T&A and not a scent. Sterile darkness of her mouth, his own reflection in her eyes. The Salesman yanked a mask from the “throwaway box” and stretched this false face over his own.

He said, “I’ll sell you The Nation. I’ll sell you to The Nation.”

Rena lay spread-eagle on a crate of rubber scalps. Her crotch, tufted with genuine human pubes, oozed Tasty Gel. The Salesman didn’t dare unzip his fly. What had he been thinking?

“The Manufacturer took me under his wing and I smelled what frailties grew there,” said The Salesman. “And anyway, who is he compared to Papa?”

So in the weird lighting of the warehouse he deflated Rena, folded her and stuffed her into his old school knapsack. He threw the plum across the warehouse where it would rot among crates of false mustaches and plastic thumbs. He went to see The Manufacturer.

The Salesman sold novelties by phone. He spoke to the people of The Nation. He sent them catalogues. He made them aware of choices. He schmoozed them and felt them out to see what might interest them. All the salesmen at the Novelty Factory received lists of names from market research firms. Once your name is on a list, anyone can call, even The Salesman.

The Manufacturer was a genuine success. He started out at seventeen with a portable souvenir stand at a dying amusement park and now he owned the largest, most profitable novelty factory in The Nation.

Once The Salesman believed in The Manufacturer. He looked to him for guidance. He believed The Manufacturer was, in his way, a great man. This belief had given him confidence to succeed.

“You are my chosen one, my greatest salesman, the brightest star at the Novelty Factory,” The Manufacturer had told him, and consequently, it was so.

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