Abe Flemming studied the open notepad on his desk. A daunting list of phrases stared back at him. There was a golden egg hidden within the black chicken-scratch, he just needed to find it. He started at the top and worked his way down.
This Home Does Not Suck!
Abe chuckled at his first entry, quickly moving past the throwaway writing prompt to the genuine attempts that followed.
Housing Nirvana … Smells Like Value, Not Teen Spirit!
He cringed, moved down a line.
$hort on Equity, Long on Charm!
Jesus, Abe thought. These sounded a lot better in his head.
Why Settle for Cookie Cutter When You Can Have a Cookie MONSTER?
Definitely not what he was going for, he moved on to the next candidate.
If You Lived Here, You’d Already Be Home!
Abe drew an angry line through the barely legible cursive, annoyed that he’d let a well-traveled cliche infiltrate his quest for fresh, unique verbiage in his advertising.
At the End of the Day, Aren’t We All Bank-Owned?
Abe groaned as he skipped this one, too, making a mental note to mine the thought for future blog fodder.
Diamond in the Guf!
Too biblical.
Where the West Was Wondered …
“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” he demanded of the empty room.
Abe dropped the pen and snatched a half-full can of Coke Zero off the desk. He took a deep pull, savoring the sweet cola’s aroma as much as its taste.
He glanced at the notepad.
Territorial Delight … Wanna Party, Cowboy?
Nearly spitting the dark liquid all over the desk, Abe was instead treated to a sudden rush of carbonation up his considerable schnoz. His eyes teared up as the resulting inferno threatened to ignite the thatch of grey-black kindling that protruded from each flared nostril.
“That’s it,” he declared, turning to his computer as the burning subsided.
The flashing cursor was poised on the blank title line, imploring its master to yield to the inevitable.
With a heavy sigh, Abe obliged.
He typed Forever Views! and printed the flyer.
Damn.
