What a week!
This morning, I got an email that was titled “On Behalf of Mister Gregory Broadmore.” Gmail gives me a peek at the first line of the email too, which read, “Dear Stella Lexiphon, We are pleased to announce your marvelous tes”
Just before I threw it to the spam-eating voles, something made me decide to open it. I think I was wondering how a spammer who was incompetent enough to call me “Stella” had gotten past the filters. Good thing I did! It wasn’t spam at all. It was a notice that something I submitted to a site had been selected for use.
Before I show you what, you have to check out Dr. Grordbort’s main site, because it is so very cool. By all means, turn up your volume and watch the promotional transmission. The rest of this post will make much more sense if you do, and it’s funny to boot.
After discovering Dr. Grordbort’s site (doing research at work, believe it or not), I became enamored and spent more time than was strictly necessary perusing the pages. Finally, I felt myself called to submit a testimonial. At the point I did this (about four months ago), no female characters had provided a testimonial, and I found this distressing. Surely the women of the universe also like to use rayguns!
And so I, Stella Lexiphon, submitted a testimonial. When I didn’t hear back, I assumed I had missed the boat, but lo! Today I received notice that my testimonial had been posted.
And yes. I meant to say that.
Stella Lexiphon, lady of high society and well-rounded personality has written us this ample testimonial. Its narrative is fully-fleshed and packed in tightly while its emotional core had us bursting out into tears. All in all, its jostling and bouncy word play makes it one of the best we’ve ever oggled at:
“My husband, the intergalactic bum, went off to fight the Moon Men and protect the helpless, scantily-clad minxes of the universe. He completely forgot that he had his own perfectly good scantily-clad minx right here. It wasn’t long before new admirers started showing up on my doorstep. They seemed to exhibit very little confidence that Milton would return from his escapades, dear oaf that he was. Is. So what’s an abandoned wife to do? Well, I saw your ad and less than a lunar week later, I had my very own Victorious Mongoose. It turns out said Victorious Mongoose is not as concealable as you think (though Sally next door says it’s my bustier’s fault for being too tight). That is, however, the only fault I can find with your marvelous machine. I only meant to scare unwanted suitors with it, but when it accidentally went off that first time, well… Let’s just say the satisfaction of seeing someone you despise melt into his constituent elements is worth the rumors that started to spread. How was I to know that last one was the Prime Skitterbah of Neptune? He should’ve learned to keep his buggy eyes to himself. Thanks to your Victorious Mongoose, this scantily-clad minx won’t ever fear rustling bushes again.”
(Posted here with permission.)