Possumblog

Spam, The Novel

Chapter One

"Greetings: My name is Mr. Melvin Samson. I work as an accountant in a bank."

That's what they all say, you know. I looked the tall stranger up and down. He stank of gin and pixels. "'Mr. Melvin,' it is? Oh--wait--no. 'Mr. Samson,' right?" He shifted nervously as he stood there. "Can we confidentially discuss the modalities of the--"

I cut him off with a quickly raised hand. I had someone for him to meet. "I've got someone for you to meet--Mirta Rose." His face turned ashen as she came into the room, purring almost, like a cat, or a pencil sharpener.

"Hello!" she said brightly, "The greatest thing about Viagra is the security that you are on "automatic pilot", relaxed, carefree, with no worries about a sudden loss of--" He stammered, trying to get her to stop, but it was no use. Just then the phone rang. "Hold on, you two lovebirds--lemme get this."

I picked up the blower, it was Palsies I. Fiber, my mortgage broker. "Still paying too much for your current mortgage? Great news, you are pre-qualified for the lowest rates. Our loan department is trying to reach you one last time since previous attempts to contact you all failed. You qualify for up to $620,000 for a monthly payment as low as $690. Save up to 40% off current payment, guaranteed!" Oh, sure, it sounded good.

"Palsies, you ignoramus, I've already talked to Marisol Faulk and Cornell Nance about this. I'm done with all this claptrap." I hung up and heard him continuing his sales pitch in the receiver until it clicked home in its cradle, "Please complete this final step upon receiving this notice immediately, and submit your application now..." Idiot.

"Mr. Samson--try to pull yourself away for a minute and let me ask you a question." I rang back to my secretary, Darla Mosley--"Darla, bring me the list."

She came in and handed me the sheet of paper. Nice girl, Darla. I'd caught her trying to lift my credit card number by pretending to be a bank. She looks good in heels. Anyway, I shoved the list across the desk to 'Mr. Samson.'

"Read 'em, Slick."

He wet his lips--you could tell he knew this was going to be rough. Big deal, right? Right. "Cesar Pritchard, Rolan Coulombe, Cusandra Hayes, Yukimi, Christian Frank, Dr. Benjamin Frank, Bernardo Terence Whitman, Lizzy Whirritty..."

"You know who they are? DO YOU!!" I slammed my hand down, hard, and he flinched. "Leave the room, Mirta--I've got some banking business to take care of."

"WHO ARE YOU, SAMSON!!"

"I am the barrister Dr. Thomas Jefferson Franklin, of the Cote d' Ivorie Departmetn of Jusictice."

Finally. Now we're getting somewhere...

Posted by Terry Oglesby at October 12, 2006 01:50 PM