Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Shits & Giggles in FreelanceVille

As a ruse to speed payment for some articles I wrote for a local magazine -- the only one worth writing for around here -- I sent the following note:

My wife needs an operation. I've been putting on a brave face the last few weeks, but the inevitable must be faced -- her kneecaps have inexplicably slipped around to the backs of her legs, and she now walks like a flamingo. The worst part of this tragedy is its unintended comedic aspect. However, Flamingo Leg, especially in young women, is no laughing matter.

The good news is that we've located a surgeon who is willing to perform the operation for the incredibly low price of $238.80. I couldn't believe it! I told him I had that much coming to me from The Drive, which had graciously published my Bono story recently. Thing is, the surgeon hopes that I'm not prodding you like I once did over payment for the Home Issue a year ago. The surgeon says any word from you on the matter would work. He's a nosey bastard, as you can see, but he's willing to fix Michelle's legs -- what the hell am I supposed to say to him?

So, we only need a word from you. And you get to choose what that word is.

God bless you.
* * *

And the man paid me.

4 comments:

Ascendantlive said...

Creativity at it's best, how can anyone refuse such a ludicrous request?

Robert F. Walsh said...

Fucking hysterical, Matt!

Gazetteer said...

Perhaps the payment arrived because this story, or maybe the concept, was worth twice the price of the original?

Whetam Knauckweirst said...

If you can believe it, the publisher (who is a hell of a good guy) took me seriously. No kidding. He called up asking how my wife was and I actually felt a little bad telling him it was all a joke. Even then, it didn't seem he understood and when I saw him in person next, he asked how my wife's operation had gone. When I explained the joke, he gave me a sheepish, "You bastard."