Hello, my name is Dick Willingston, and I am a man in a suit pretending to like beer.
Just look at me. Do you think I really like beer? When you drink beer, do you dress up in a fancy suit to do it? I'm ridiculous. Look at how awkwardly I'm holding this beer. Do you see my uncomfortable expression, the careful sissy girl way I'm holding my beer, and how I obviously have no idea what to do with my other hand besides place it unnaturally on the table in a Bob Dole style claw?
My goodness, I'm more wooden than the table and chairs. Even my tie is ridiculous. The little upside-down "v" under the knot is so perfect that it looks like I wore the suit out of the store and had the closeted gay salesman tie the knot for me.
Which I did. But I did not kiss him. I do not kiss men. Studies show that 52% of you do not like men who kiss other men.
Why am I telling you this? I want to be honest with you, friend. I'm Dick Willingston, and I want to be your pal. Remember when you were in elementary school, and the principal explained how he was a principal, and therefore capable of being your pal? I'm like that, except I am not a principal, and I really have no interest in spending time with you. I just want you to like me.
That's why I'm holding this beer. You like beer, or at least studies show that you do, and even though I'm holding this beer as if it were a cup of yeast extracted from a pregnant woman, studies show that you'll like me 42% better for pretending I'm going to drink it.
Hola, amigo. I'm Dick Willingston, and today I am 42% more your friend.
But remember, if you are a man, do not try to kiss me. It would erase our 42% and replace it with negative-10%. That would be terrible indeed.
Heh, heh. "Amigo." The kids like that word. That's why I used it just now. I read a report on children just yesterday, and it said all the kids find Mexicans, as well as their language, to be very likable. That's why I had my wife, Janice, look up the words "hello" and "friend" in a Spanish dictionary. It's also why I've hired illegal Mexicans to clean my house each weekend when I'm away at the cabin. Every Sunday, I return and pay them with handfuls of sunflower seeds.
Hello, friend. I'm Dick Willingston, and today your children adore me 62% more than Jesus, because Jesus didn't know how to say hello in Spanish like Mexican gangsters on Music TeleVision. Or at least I don't think he did. I'll have Janice read the Bible and tell me whether Jesus says "hola" or "amigo" in it.
So why is a man in a suit like me trying to be your friend? Don't worry. I'm not trying to sell you a product. I'm not some boogeysalesman, here to trick you into liking me so you'll buy more beer or Spanish dictionaries. Heh heh. I'm not one of those telemarketers. Do you ever notice how they always call during dinner? Heh heh. No, I'm Dick Willingston, and I want to show you a very lovely house. As a realtor, I could sell this lovely house to anyone, but I want to sell it to you, friend.
And why wouldn't you want to buy it? I'm your friend! We both enjoy beer liquids, and your children adore me and my clever Spanish greetings. I am like an uncle to them. An uncle who stays far, far away from them and refuses to remember their birthdays.
Please don't bring your children when you come to see the house.
I'm Dick Willingston, and my phone number is (715) 394-8230. Perhaps after we arrange the down payment for your lovely new house, we can never speak to each other again, and I can enjoy my commission while disacknowledging ever having met you. I'd like that a lot, friend.
