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A tall tale whets an appetite
(The following is a transcription of a telephone "conversation" which I had around 30 years ago. My wife Dorothy, who was standing next to me all the while this was going on, will testify as to its veracity.)
One evening at exactly 6:45 the phone rang. The caller asked, "is this the massage parlor?" I replied that it wasn't.
I thought nothing more about what I ascribed to be a wrong number. But the next evening, there was another call at exactly 6:45 asking for the massage parlor. And the same thing the next evening.
We finally came to the realization that there was probably an incorrect phone number printed in some publication (no doubt the Boston Phoenix) for a massage parlor. I decided to have a little fun. So the next evening when the phone rang at 6:45 p.m., I answered in a low unctuous voice, "Mother Goose Massage Parlor -- may I help you?"
A male voice replied, "Yes --can you tell me what services you provide?" He seemed to emphasize the word "services" in a very suggestive way.
"Services?" I said. "Yes, we have all sorts of--services! What kinds of services did you have in mind?"
But he was keeping it purposely vague: "Well, uh, what kinds of services do you have?" The word "services" hung in the air suggestively like a ripe peach.
"Services? Do we have services! You won't believe the services we have! Do you want me to describe our run-of-the-mill services? Or should I tell you about the kind of unique services we have that no other massage parlor has?
He said he'd like to hear about the "unique" services.
So I began: "In other massage parlors, they use their hands to rub you down. But, as far as I know, the Mother Goose Massage Parlor is the only place in which we rub you down with a live goose."
To my surprise, he responded with "Uh-Huh..." This was said in that tone of voice expressing genuine interest, as if to say "Tell me more!", rather than the incredulity I expected. I quickly pushed through to the punch line:
"So, whereas those other parlors are merely giving you rub-downs, at the Mother Goose Massage Parlor we give you down-rubs."
I expected that my caller would get my little joke, give the obligatory chortle (or groan), and hang up. But once again he responded with "Uh-Huh..." His appetite had just been whetted and he was eager to hear more. I found myself placed in the position of having to improvise on the spot:
"Then, after you've been given your down-rub, we leave the room and allow you to be alone with the goose to do whatever you want with it."
"Uh-Huh..."
I was winging it by the seat of my pants, but what else could I do?
"Once the goose is dead, we retrieve it from you, bring it into our kitchen, and prepare you a complete roast goose dinner with all the trimmings. And the cost for everything -- the down-rub, the personal use of the goose, and the banquet -- is only $100." (Note: this was quite a chunk of change for the year 1978. On the other hand, look at what he would be getting for that paltry sum!)
And what was my caller's response to this obvious bit of -- to my way of thinking at least -- reduction to absurdity?
"Uh-Huh..."
What could I do? It was obvious that the caller was intrigued by my idea of a unique massage parlor. I simply could not get him to hang up! Thinking quickly, I finally told him that there was someone at the door -- could he hold? He said that he would. I put the phone down for about 30 seconds; then I picked it up again and said:
"Sir, are you still there?"
"Yes..."
"I'm afraid that was the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They tell me that they have been looking at my little, er, operation now for some time."
"So what does this mean?"
"Quite frankly, it probably means that my goose is cooked!"
"Uh-Huh."
(By the way, if someone spends all their days in a massage parlor without getting any natural light, do they develop a parlor pallor?
(16 March 2008)
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