SUCK FACE BLOW - Exterminator

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

EXTERMINATER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/31/2006

When I finally found my calling, it was no where near where I always thought that it would be.

I always just knew that I would be an innovator.. if not in the lime light, then in some subtle and inconspicuous way that no one would even know about for years.

I never would have dreamed I would bring into the world a stroke of humanity and civility that many contend to be unmatched in all of history. In all honesty, I got the idea after having been called to a vegetarian restaurant on an average, everyday check up that we exterminators are prone to with long standing clients. It just keeps them happy knowing that we care and that we stay on top of the rodents and roaches and other filth that their establishments draw as if they were the primordial cesspool itself.

I found myself with a little extra time that day between service calls, so I managed to strike up a conversation with the hippie guy that ran the restaurant. We chatted about vegan stuff, and vegetarian stuff... and even had a slight debate as to whether eating insects would still count as being vegetarian.

That is pretty much where the idea sprang forth from that place no one ever really can explain!

We were talking about the existence of various types of insects and roaches... and we began to wonder if they had feelings. Could they possibly have emotional existences and feelings as well as pain in the manner that humans do (for the most part)?

I have to admit that the old hippie really had a good argument about how all living things were precious in some mystical way beyond or savage comprehension.. But that isn't the part that got me thinking. In fact I couldn't much give a rats ass about whether or not we are all special in some pot head hippie way to some unimaginable creature that none of us could ever hope to understand.

I simply saw a niche and I wasn't going to let it slip by without at least looking into it. And I am glad that I did!

The idea was to play on the sympathies of people at first. Use it as a sales pitch you know... "get in on 'em" so to speak, and then really hit 'em with the big sell... but oddly enough, I didn't even have to sell it!

It sold itself!

It is just that good!

I single handedly managed to reinvent the exterminator business! And I did it with nothing but a little good ol' spit and elbow grease know how! And besides... the girls love it! My date book has been full ever since.

I sat at home that evening and devised a way to no longer actually kill the rodents and roaches. I made exterminating politically correct! I found a way to coax them from out of their hiding places and then to resell to flea circus's as "talent" and to fill the spectator seats.

I found out that there is just nothing as sad as a good flea circus with no spectators.

It might sound a little funny, but the way I managed to begin coaxing these vermin was in the use of "cooing" tactics. I would "coo" and then use one of those wind up monkeys that claps the cymbals and chomps its jaw.. and they would just start filing out of the cracks and crevices, right into the waiting carrying case... soon to be flea circus stars and spectators.

I had done it without ever even trying to succeed!

I was Suck Face Blow, politically correct exterminator!

SUCK FACE BLOW - Recovering Hypocondriac

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

RECOVERING HYPOCONDRIAC!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/31/2006

I guess I feel alright today. It is hard to tell these days. I can't even trust myself anymore in regard to how I might feel.

I was feeling really good the other day and then it dawned on me that it was probably a symptom. More than likely a symptom for something far worse than I had ever heard of.

For awhile it was thought that perhaps I was just addicted to anxieties, but then the psychosomatic like symptoms began to occur with more frequency which kind of freaked the doctors out.

I guess I should be proud as the doctors had not ever seen such an acute.. pronounced and polarized example of the psychosomatic manifestation of various illnesses in the degree that I displayed.

Some likened it to a form of superstitious symbiosis... sympathy type of ailments which would actually manifest.

They only started to consider that after I had told them that I experienced odd developments in relation to things I experience. Like reading a book or watching television.

If I read a book about Jesus for example, my hands would start to bleed. If I watched a television program about politics, my nose would become immensly swollen and I would have the distinct flavor of soap in my mouth for days. Bar soap, that is... not the liquid kind.

It was really weird and it got so bad that I developed a case of fleas after watching a few seconds of a cat food commercial.

That is the only thing it could have been as I never really go anywhere except to my annalist and the doctors office. My head shrink told me that it meant that I was definitely a cat person. Especially given that nothing like that ever happened when I would watch anything about dogs.

There was definitely a connection there.

I am recovering though. At least that is what they tell me in the meetings I go to for support.... but then again, I suppose that is what they are for, so how accurate could that be? When you think about it, they get paid to say good things to you... so really, you could be sitting there dieing of some exotic, brain rotting disease and all of the other people would tell you how well you are doing....

...that is of course, if you maintain your medication.

I've noticed that about allot of things around my recovery. It seems to go better if you tell the other people that you have medication. At least it seems there is more positive support to be had.

The support groups are really kind of neat. I would wager that they are the only support groups where the attendants have their own, hermetically sealed enclosure. The bad part is that we have to wait for a precise time to come and go, so as to avoid affecting one another. As if we are being loaded up like astronauts.. or better yet, like researchers in some totally germ free atmosphere.

I had a dream about that once and almost woke up in a heart attack - maybe that is part of the reason I don't sleep? As much as I hated just knowing I was always on the verge of demise from some horrible disease... I was freaked about being in an environment where there weren't any germs, but I realize that is just because of a fear in losing the progress I have made toward conquering all known forms of infectious micro organisms.

If there weren't any in the room I was in, they would most surely get away and probably sneak up on me again. Something like that just made sense beyond any doubt.

If you aren't paying attention to them every moment... they are sure to do something infectious!

Which brings me to my sleep deprivation problem.... of course, I tend to think that people who do sleep are actually imperfections, horrible examples of humanity in the ongoing war against infectious germs and illness.....but then again if I go to sleep I usually wake up with some horrible ailment. The worst being the common cold.

Man I hate the common cold. It totally wastes the modern advance in medicines. Particularly antibiotics.

I think it's a plan. A plan that was derived and implemented by infectious disease's.

Sure, it sounds crazy, but they are living organism's!

Living organisms at least have the potential to communicate, and having the potential to communicate means that there is a potential for conspiring.

Who do you think the infectious diseases would conspire against?

People. More so, unsuspecting people. The common cold is a "dummy," a distraction meant to use up our defense's. It is a ploy onto humanity to distract and infiltrate!

In that respect and from that perspective, hypochondriacs have it pretty good. At least we are on the ball. Always on the front lines so to speak, and ready for such conspiracies to move into action.

We will know before anyone else does, when the communicating micro organisms launch their "take over the planet" plan. Then maybe people will see us in a different light when they recognize us for the hero's that we truly are in the inter dimensional battle for existence.

That is another reason I am not sure I even want to "recover." How do I know it would be "recovering" and not just disarming my naturally heightened detection and defense mechanisms?

And when I consider it... in the light of humanity really being nothing more than progressing insanity in various levels. Who's to say that everyone else isn't abnormal?

Of course that worries me to think that I might be normal, and actually an example of health... if for nothing more than it meaning I could get sick at any moment.

Even though I am Suck Face Blow... a recovering hypochondriac.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Pubic Hair Sculptor

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

PUBIC HAIR SCULPTOR!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/30/2006

I am sure you know what they say; LOCATION! LOCATION! LOCATION!

I was going to have the best shop around as I had managed to get the best spot on the block because of some issues about asbestos.. but the landlord assured me that had all been taken care of.

It really didn't matter anyway, everyone knows that asbestos scare was just to have an excuse to re-decorate a few places, and then the idea took off.

Well, that is what I was hoping for. For the "idea" to take off, because I had the best idea anyone had in.. a long time as far as I could tell.

It was such a good idea that I couldn't believe someone hadn't already done it.

I was going to have the best salon anywhere. Maybe even world famous.. and I was going to do it with skills I already had, not to mention an inherent interest I had developed from long excursions under the covers with Nature Magazines.

I always had this urge to help them! The men and women alike! To do something ornate and lively with what always seemed to be a big, bushy mess in every Nature Magazine I looked at.

It took me some time before I could get over not realizing why the photographers and their crew didn't at least spruce the photographs up a little.

It just seemed like there could be so much more done with it. Something tasteful and complimentary.

Something to really make them feel special about themselves.

I was just the guy to provide such a service. I was sure it would prove to be invaluable to say the least with the multitude of designs I had in mind for sculpting.

As soon as I had firmed things up with the land lord, I went ahead and made a huge sign myself while the painters did their thing with the interior. I made it as big as I could so that everyone could see it. I even leased a billboard in the retail district three blocks over.

I was just that sure of this idea and the potentials it posed.

SUCK FACE BLOW

PERSONAL, PUBIC SCULPTOR

UNISEX SALON

That is what I put on the signs for people to read with a rather incredible background photograph that got me more attention in the long run, than the business itself ended up doing.

I figured it would be alright to use a photo from the Nature magazines.. it kind of set the example of the sort of patron I was looking to provide my service for. Someone who was in need of something they maybe didn't even realize they wanted....

....but such is the art of sales and service! And I had found a niche.

I still don't really know why no one ever showed up to the salon. I spent long days there just dozing in the stirrup chairs and on the examination tables. Sometimes someone would walk in thinking it was a "public sculpting shop" of some sort... but I quickly corrected their error with information that obviously effected them to some degree.

I suspect that someone else stole the idea and told everyone that I did a bad job... and am sure that it will show up in some fashion magazine before long.

That must be what happened because there were always people calling about the billboards and the sign out front and they always seemed excited.... and it seemed like there was always someone looking in the front window.

I know it was an interesting idea at least... and like I said, the more I consider it the more I am sure that someone is going to open a pubic sculpting shop sometime soon. maybe just to say they stole the idea from Suck Face Blow, Pubic Sculptor.

I just hope they have the respect enough to open it in a different neighborhood. That would be the least someone could do if they were going to steal such a good idea. At least allow a guy the respect of not having to look at someone else's pubic sculpting parlor as it bussles and bounds with business.

Knowing they would have to see it everyday... even if they were Suck Face Blow.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Sea Monkey Farmer

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

SEA MONKEY FARMER!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/30/2006

Anyone would have done it. It wasn't that far out of line but for some reason the Sea Monkey People frowned on my entrepreneur like skills in having turned one simple mail order of Sea Monkeys from the back of my favorite comic book, into a cottage industry to rival even that of Mirthy Stalwart.

I am surprised that the S.W.A.T. team even bothered to knock when they showed up to "shut down my illegal operation." It was weird because once I answered the door they rushed in like gang busters! Like I was some wanted fugitive or something.

I guess the comic book people had been watching me closely for some time having noticed a drastic decline in the mail orders for Sea Monkeys.

It was really quite easy. All I did was send in the order form for Sea Monkeys a person can find in any comic book.. and I waited.

And waited..... and waited...... and waited.... and waited....

And then finally, around my thirtieth birthday they showed up! What a good thing that I still lived with my mom!

I had almost forgotten about having sent in the order some twenty years earlier, but a person has got to hand it to them.. they are diligent in many ways. For some reason they had been back ordered for almost a decade... at least that is what the enclosed memo stated.

Either way, I was more than pleased to have received my batch of Real, Live Sea Monkeys! So much so that I immediately ran into the bathroom and began to fill the bathtub with water. Not just any old water mind you, but water in accordance to the enclosed directions in order to get the best results!

I even used a thermometer and some of what I had learned in scientist school about Sea Monkeys and things.

It was then that it occurred to me that I could just go into business for myself selling Sea Monkeys. I could be a Sea Monkey Farmer! I had learned all sorts of scientific things I could easily put to use with my own Sea Monkey Farm.

I could finally make my mother proud!

The Sea Monkeys I received had not even began to wiggle around in the bathtub before I had made the decision to go into business for myself. It all came to me in one big, magnificent epiphany!

All I needed to do was breed the Sea Monkeys I already had and the rest would surely be icing on the spoon! Then all I would need to do was lick it!

It was a few weeks before I realized I would need to advertise somehow. I hadn't really thought about it since I had become engulfed in the excitement of farming my new Sea Monkeys and of course the potential and success that loomed so promising on the horizon, like the first moon on a wonderful spring evening.

The excitement even followed me around what ever I did... kind of like the moon when you are walking along outside.

I thought about it for awhile and realized that advertising costs money.. especially the kind of advertising I would need to reach the right market. So I again put my innate ingenuity to work and began to print up address labels with the words SEA MONKEY'S BELOW MARKET COST! in bold letters printed across the top.

I then set out in my dads old overcoat (so I would remain inconspicuous) to begin my advertising campaign.

I must have stopped into every comic book store in the area. I am talking about a several mile radius, just to insure a saturation that would give me some returns.

I then employed a few things I picked up at my evil scientist job, and began to sneak my advertising stickers into various comic books.... but only the good ones, I assure you. After all, I was Suck Face Blow and I did have some quality standards to uphold.

There is no way I could miss with such cunning in undercutting the market - and it said so with the eye catching address stickers I had just made, all myself.

I even went back the next day (in a different coat of course, to remain inconspicuous) just to admire my advertising ploy.

It was great! I couldn't help feeling proud of myself as I thumbed through the comics and found that ever present back page where I had, with no small amount of skill mind you, placed my conspicuous Sea Monkey advert.

I even put it right over the one that is printed in the comic books!

Before I knew it, I was making return trips to the comic book shops with loads of labels to place... and I did so with the greatest inspiration an entrepreneur could have.

I was booming with business.

In fact I had so many orders that I almost had to order more Sea Monkey's myself, just to keep up.... but luckily, my evil scientist skills won out and I maintained my own supply through farming skills.

I should say that I was a bit let down with my mother's reaction though. I thought she would have been proud of me, but after a few months with Sea Monkeys in the bathtub, she almost kicked me out.

I had to think of something or my mother was going to ruin everything. My dad didn't mind. He never bathed anyway... but my mother was fond of long, hot baths... and the Sea Monkeys were starting to bother her skin for some reason. I still suspect her of turning me in just because of it.

I had it all it seemed. I was at the top of the world just wading in orders for Sea Monkeys. I was Suck Face Blow Sea Monkey Farmer and it seemed like nothing in the world could have stopped me! But success can be fickle as I have heard and found out with that fateful knock on the door being the S.W.A.T. team on the other side of it.

I found out later that someone had requested that they knock instead of just barging in.

I am sure it was my mother.... there isn't anyone else that I knew of that would have cared about a surprise visit from the S.W.A.T. team - even my dad, and he doesn't miss his game shows for anything!

SUCK FACE BLOW - Evil Scientist!

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

EVIL SCIENTIST!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/30/2006

It might be hard to imagine, but I am really a "good guy" scientist, or at least I was. That is what I went to school for anyhow, but there is just no work to be had being a good guy scientist.

I should have figured given that all anyone ever hears about are the evil scientists. I kind of thought that area would be way too full of potential evil scientists, but in fact there is a huge shortage of them. They just can't seem to keep any real talent around for too long.

It was kind of a surprise to find out after graduating, that my degree being a good guy scientist wouldn't get me anywhere. It was shocking the first few times I applied for work and was turned down just because it said "good guy scientist" on my application. I could have fought it based on discrimination against "good guy scientists," but it just seemed easier to opt for what they needed at the time. I guess that is just the way society is these days.

The biggest pain in the ass was in having to redo my entire resume just to put "evil scientist guy" where "good guy scientist guy" used to be, and then of course come all those silly ethical concerns...but a guy has to eat, you know. And how could it be worse than most of the crib sheet stuff I managed in college?

It kind of bothered me for the first few minutes at my new job, now being an "evil scientist guy" but I got over it as soon as I saw the evil scientist guy assistants.

It is no wonder the evil scientists can hardly get anything done. I almost blew us all up a few times before I got used to fishnet stockings and laced corsets running around the laboratory.

It was really surprising to see that some evil scientist guy that worked there before me, had managed to animate corsets and fishnets. He was careful though seeing as he put them on a limited perimeter for movement. If they left the building they would just fall over like any other regular lingerie.

The assistants like I said, were pretty incredible too. They never missed a beat. And sometimes they were so persistent that it is a wonder they didn't become experiment subjects themselves.

I would bet that they could even run the joint if they had to. They were just that on the ball. Even with the corsets and stockings parading around.

One time in particular I recall finding myself needing to put my big toe back in the hole I had in the standard issue, evil scientist sock I was wearing... and before I knew it, one of the evil scientist assistants was there with a brand new cucumber and an ice cold beer.

It was just what I needed for some reason. I'm still not sure what the cucumber was for so I use it as a paper weight, but the beer went down easy.. and of course I forgot about my evil scientist sock.

That is when the trouble started with my new evil scientist guy job. You see, the evil scientist guy assistant was really quite with it as far as "evil stuff" is concerned... she managed to get me discharged from the evil scientist guy position for drinking on the job and I still have a sexual harassment suit pending.

Me, SUCK FACE BLOW, evil scientist! College degree and everything.

Don't ask me how, but like I said those evil scientist assistants can really do a number on even the most brilliant of evil scientists.

There are just some things that a college can't teach a guy. Even an evil scientist guy named Suck Face Blow.

Maybe they should just forgo the trade of "evil scientists" entirely... and stick with the evil scientist assistant stuff.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Dead Civilian

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

DEAD CIVILIAN!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/30/2006

I must have laid there for a few days before anyone even acted like they noticed. Even having been caught in automatic weapons fire in a high traffic area. Finally, someone noticed and that is when the real adventure began for me as a dead civilian in a war zone.

I have to admit that I was really bored for those few days. Nothing but the same old stuff ever happening... except the bugs starting to crawl on me more and more. A bunch of people would run one way, yelling and screaming and shooting at each other....and then they would run back the other way, yelling and screaming and shooting at each other... and killing other civilians too.

Believe me, I don't feel like the Lone Ranger or anything. There are dead civilians everywhere! It's like those "good guys" don't even know how to shoot straight... unless they are aiming at us. When we are alive, that is? But that couldn't be the case,they are the "good guys."

So I laid there for a few days, but I was kind of lucky since I managed to get killed in a spot that stays somewhat in the shade most of the day. Funny thing is, I was admiring the blood splatters and fleshy remnants from another dead guy a few feet away that were spattered on the wall. White wash must have been made to be canvassed with blood and stuff. They just go so well together from what I can remember just before I took a 50 millimeter slug in my head.

That was kind of neat too, though. It was definitely from an automatic weapon because Ican vaguely remember the trace of bullet hits moving up the wall toward me, just before I fell over dead.

I suppose those people in the "good guy" country, would say I amounted to something anyhow, being that I am forever a part of one of the largest dead civilian counts in a conflict designed to liberate the civilian population, ever.

I lived to become a statistic for reviewers and analyzers and stuff, over there in the "good guy" country.

I'm sure my mother would be proud, but she was gunned down a few months ago not far from here.

It must be the thing to do... they just keep killing and killing civilians. Maybe we are popular in some weird way after all.

Like I was saying, I laid there for a few days just being dead and bored... but then the party really started when some guy with a broken down personnelle vehicle came along and was stacking up us dead guys in it. We were stacked so high that there is no way that guy could have got even one more dead civilian on that machine! It just would not have been possible.

There we were... a stack of dead civilians cruising down the road all stacked up so the driver had to go really slow... unless we would fall off on corners and big bumps....when we all suddenly noticed that it wasn't so bad at all really. The "good guys" were right I guess, since no one seemed to miss us or anything.

In fact, I am kind of surprised that anyone even bothered to count how many of us there were.. kind of sort of maybe.

As soon as the big truck stopped, we all knew we were in for a good time. We could see the huge hole dug in the ground that would end up being where we would be piled in until we rotted away.

This liberation stuff just kept getting better by the minute.

There wasn't one of us that could argue with that.

SUCK FACE BLOW - Super Hero

The Coquetries Of

SUCK FACE

BLOW

SUPER HERO!

A Short Fiction Series

That Is Supposed To Suck!

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

10/28/2006

I hadn't come up with a theme song, yet. I figured that would probably just develop as my popularity grew. I would probably just get one in the mail from some fan expressing depths of adulation that only us Superheros could ever know.

To be entirely honest, I had not even figured out what my special powers were. I had tried a few things, but found that most of the results were kind of normal.

I knew I couldn't walk through walls... and found that out directly a few times before I had convinced myself that such a special power just wasn't mine. Thankfully I never needed many stitches.

I tried reading minds, but again just found kind of a normal percentage a person might expect of educated guess work.

I attempted to bend metal bars... but like the T.V. guys, I ended up having to substitute copper wire wrapped with foam and painted to look like metal.

I really had to come up with something fast... my superhero outfit would be here in a few days. I made sure of it when I included the extra to cover the "rush" costs any self respecting Superhero would opt for once they found out. That is, once they knew about their having been chosen to embody special, super hero powers.

My friends all said it was just an advertising scam. Something meant to dupe kids and perhaps those lonely, bored C.E.O. types that don't have anything better to do than dress up in costumes and play different roles.

This was different. They were just jealous.

I really had been chosen to be in the next generation of Superhero guys. I even had a certified newspaper filler insert that said so.

Maybe, as I think about it... I would actually have to wait for the costume before the super powers would take effect?

I decided against trying to fly until I at least had a cape... just from the common sense approach in observing the results of all the other "test" action I subjected myself to.

I did realize though, that I seemed to have an above average knack to procrastinate. Maybe that could be one of my best special powers?

If I could manage to get the bad guys on the phone, then make some appointment with them... I could always be late for the appointment and there-in begin an ill fated series of actions to thwart their evil plans?

I was good at making up excuses, too. sometimes even such good excuses that anyone I used them on left the room entirely mesmerized!

Most people always thought that they were just confused... befuddled as it were, at what sort of inane reasoning had just crossed the path of their existence.. but I knew that it was really the beginnings of some rather unique super powers.

Yeah, I could procrastinate and fabricate excuses like no other person I had ever even heard of. Sometimes I didn't even need to practice them... either of them. Like it was something I was meant to do. I could make an excuse out of anything. It didn't even have to be a reason.

I figured the first thing I would do once my outfit arrived.... after figuring out a few special powers, that is... was get right to work on the really hard mysteries. Those deep and unanswered questions that have haunted society for years.

Personally, my first job as a superhero was going to be bringing the sock monster in, to face his "come up-ance" as they say. I can't think of a longer standing streak of criminal activity that still looms "at large."

The sock monster was going to have his day very soon.... just as soon as my out fit arrived.

I figured I could set a trap for him... something not too obvious though. Maybe leave a big note on the refrigerator that said I was going to go sock shopping at a certain time. That would be the bate. Then I would leave the receipt laying around on the coffee table... maybe I would get bold about it and leave it on the washing machine.

Either way, I knew it was far too much for the sock monster to pass up.

Then, I figured a regular old rat trap would do if I pasted it to the inside of dryer so it wouldn't flop around and spring the trap too soon. I couldn't see how that could miss. The nearest I could tell was that the sock monster had to run around the inside of the dryer wheel really fast to keep up with the tumbling socks...probably tormenting them and torturing them with taunts and verbal abuses before he would strike.

I was kind of counting on that actually... at least he would be distracted from seeing the rat trap pasted to the dryer carriage.

Then I would have him! Hands down, the sock monster would be mine.

I couldn't wait to pose for my front page photo with the sock monster all bound up like a bad guy.

I was Suck Face Blow, Super Hero!

And soon, the rest of the world would know it, too!

SUCK FACE BLOW - Private Dick!

^{The Coquetries of}

SUCK FACE
BLOW

PRIVATE DICK!

A Short Fiction SeriesThat Is Supposed To Suck!
By
David A. Archer02/15/1968

10/27/2006

My name is Suck Face Blow, Private Dick.

The day started - it was just as any other day, on that fateful day when I decided it was my day.
Then it progressed as I decided beyond a doubt that it was in the cards for me to become the worlds best private eye.

I began my venture with hiring various firms to design my look and feel. This admittedly from the influence in witnessing the success of television fashion make over shows.

I was going to be the best Private Dick that effeminate men could manage. And definitely would have the best look money could buy.

After having leveraged myself into a mountain of credit debt to pay for only the very best, I decided to officially "put out my shingle" and watch the business roll in. I have to admit that I was rather excited about the potential marriage snoops - the racy photographs and exciting, borderline secret agent kind of stuff.

So much potential seemed to loom within the marriage snoop area... maybe even some potential relationships for myself... on the side so to speak, as any self respecting Private Dick would do.

I was done with the hum drum life, what ever that shingle might bring.

The first day at the office was nothing but unforgettable. The people I hired to design the layout were definitely top notch and it showed.

Any dame that walked through those doors would be putty in my hands and any John would know that I was the man to handle the job.

I walked to the entryway and confidently placed my key in the door. It even sounded brand new and trustworthy as the key turned while I read the stenciled writing on the opaque glass window;

SUCK FACE BLOW

Private Dick

The door swung open and I walked through still glancing at the ego stroke so prominent and obvious on the front entry.

"I really was a Private Eye, now" I thought to myself as the door again closed gently behind me with no effort of my own.

I strolled down the corridor and noticed the new trim and how it was so tastefully coupled with the subtle depth given from the deft paint job on the walls.

There was just no stopping me now and I knew it!

I continued down the through way and turned a corner to find more of what I had invested in as insurance for my success.

There on the door was again a form of reassurance to any that may find their way to my services;

SUCK FACE BLOW
Everything You Need

"The dames would really like that one" I thought as I removed my pristine fedora and cupped it in my hand, momentarily admiring the simple brilliance of the just as simple note so carefully painted on the authentic classic feel glass window. I could just imagine what the patrons would think when they saw the automatic shadow caster I still had on back order, in action... once I set it up.

That was going to be a great door window! The model I wanted to cast automatic shadows had a rotating function that changed on a timer. It would always look intriguing.

I could not have stepped through that doorway with more zeal as I again admired the way that the stenciled message remained incredible at any angle of view, and even with the motion of the door itself.

I strolled down the small waiting corridor beyond it, and noticed the tasteful artwork set to look like windows. I must have been a genius in such a choice, as I noticed how it really added to the small walkway. Once I could afford it, I might even upgrade to realistic television monitors set into the walls that would play various outdoor scenes.

I might even get a cat just to be in that small stretch of walkway.

There really was no stopping me now and I really knew it!

As I entered the confined corridor, I looked to see what could be described as nothing less than evidence in the advance of the human species. Just at the other end of the space, was something anyone would be proud of.

There, on the rustic window set in the door, was what anyone could recognize as evidence of a gold mine waiting to boom;

SUCK FACE BLOW
Wedding's, Birthday's, Bat Mitzva's!

I knew at that moment that there was just nothing I couldn't do and it said so, right there on the door!

I was official. I was without a doubt on my way to notoriety that would be the envy of mankind.

I was Suck Face Blow, and everyone was going to know it.

I stepped into the waiting room and immediately noticed that my mail order secretary hadn't arrived yet.. and then noted that I would probably have to fire her... or at least send her back to the factory for a replacement. Maybe I would even splurge and get the model that incessantly chewed gum and talked more through her nose than in any oratorical fashion. One that preferred the type of jewelry the monkeys wear all dressed up on those funny post cards. I would probably supply the pencils myself though, as my budget dictated that all of the frills were still just out of reach.

I took in a deep breath as it really began to dawn on me that this was an incredibly magnificent moment in my life. I looked around at the physical proof that Suck Face Blow was well on his way to the big time, and immediately decided to put the hat rack to good use.

After I managed to position my fedora just so on the long, brass laden coat rack... I decidedly paused for just a moment before turning the ceiling fan on.

This was a big moment. That ceiling fan would represent everything. Every stereotypical idea that being a real Private Dick entails.

It was truly a big moment. A moment I was not going to let pass without due notice and appreciation.

I had studied the schematics on my authentic private investigator office fan. I did so in the effort to know without any question, precisely how many gentle tugs to give the dangling string when I set it in motion in order to achieve the perfect speed of rotation which would compliment my authenticity as a real Private Dick.

I would have to tug it three times in order to achieve that long and slow rotation that subliminally, everyone in the civilized world associated with genuine private eye work. If I tugged it too fast, I might skip a gear and have to do it all again. If I tugged too slow, the fan would stay in a speedier motion too long and never quite achieve that un-noticed noticeability in presenting validity with no effort, when it finally did slow down.

It was a moment to be envied. Of that there was no question.

I tugged the frilly dangler in the most consistent manner. "Click.... Click.... Click" as it set into motion.

I paused just so, in the effort to insure that all possible forces in the universe were in a syncopation which would insure the successful launch of my ceiling fan rotation.

It worked flawlessly.

The fan started slowly into motion and then gently gained velocity in rotation, but just to the most precise point of speed... where it then maintained nothing less than what the manufacturer had guaranteed would be the perfect private investigator office fan performance.

It was so noticeably un-noticeable... so natural in the environment which was so professionally put together in decor, that it seemed to bring the entire room to life. A sleepy, calm and secure sort of animation without motion. The shadows even began to exist in that very moment as thesensation of pride filled my Private Dick breast.

I had made it! I was now officially big time!

I looked around the waiting room with a type of satisfaction a person is hard pressed to explain.
This was better than getting my first library card. Better than my official movie rental membership card. Even better than when I won the raffle at the annual picnic and paraded off with the prize cake in front of everyone still sobbing over their spent vouchers, which I had devastated and rendered null in one mighty motion.

I was Suck Face Blow and it was again reaffirmed when I noticed the brilliant presence of the door into my personal, Private Dick office;

This Way To

SUCK FACE BLOW

Dog Sitting,And The Solution To That Which Ails You!
No Pills, No Shots....Painless!

What more needed to be said?

Who on the planet would not be taken in and reassured in the same motion with my genuine presence, then further being exposed to such professionalism incarnate as were my stenciled door windows?

I was already amazed that the doors were still on the hinges and not worn and broken from traffic even though I had only been in my own office for moments.. It was just going to be that good.

I continued into my personal, private investigator office and sat at my authentic desk. I immediately put my feet up as might be expected of such genuine professionalism.

I looked around and realized that I hadn't missed a thing. Everything was just right.

"Any moment now" I thought, "some dame would slide through that door with a tear in her eye and a want for someone such as myself to make it all turn out right.... and I would without a doubt.

I was Suck Face Blow!"