Salesman Extrudes a Greeting
[Dateline — Levittown, NY; April 17th, 1952] A quiet suburban street, identical to many others, with rows of new postwar ranches aligned in prettily pastel shades down the multiple parallel strips of concrete and barren lawn.
No birds chirp, no squirrels chitter, no chipmunks run — no, not even an ant or cricket ventures about in the late morning sunshine. A slight breeze from the far horizon carries a lone lazy bumblebee in his erratic journey from miniature rose to miniature rose.
But here, on the stoop of 127A, fourth house from the corner of Oak Lane and Colonial Drive, stands Norbert Jinkmeister, premier salesman of Hardbody’s Emporium of Household Necessities. Looking nicely natty in his Joe Friday fedora, skinny tie, black-and-burgundy ventilated dress shoes, and knife-crease sharkskin suit, Norbert extrudes an unctuous and fruity hello, embarking on yet one more sale of unnecessary Necessities to yet one more gullible military bride.
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