One day Richard Widemouth was checking for the ad he placed in the Reader.

“Damn” exclaimed Richard Widemouth in a voice that sounded like an edgy thunder on the horizon. “I can’t find the ad that I placed in the local free paper. Fuck! What a cunt lappin’ douche bag paper…Oh here it is”

Richard Widemouth had just graduated from La Varenne, prestigious culinary school in France, and had decided to start his own business in Chicago. His specialty was salad preparation. Perhaps “salad” was the wrong word for one of Richard Widemouth’s creations. A salad made by Richard Widemouth was a full meal nutritionally and quantitatively. He was very good at what he did.

The ad was just as he had presented it. It read…

$15 RICHARD 555-5555 “

Suddenly, the phone rang. Richard Widemouth answered the phone

“Hello” said Richard in a voice that sounded like a friendly buttercup

“Hi. I’m calling about the ad in the Reader. Is this Richard?”

“Yes, this is Richard” said Richard Widemouth in a voice that was more persimmon than buttercup

“Well I’m James and I want my salad tossed.”

“Yes James I’d be happy to oblige! Where would you like me to come?” said Richard Widemouth in a voice that was two thirds business, one sixth persimmon and one sixth friendly confidant

Richard Widemouth got the address and hung up. The phone rang immediately. In fact, Richard Widemouth made six appointments before he was able to leave for his first appointment.

Richard Widemouth would be passing by his friend Harry Dangaphippe's house.
Harry Dangaphippe played the trumpet and Richard Widemouth wanted to ask him to do him a favor, so he called Harry Dangaphippe on his cell phone and asked if he could stop by.

“Dude, it would be great to see you. Stop by!" said Harry Dangaphippe

Richard Widemouth arrived at Harry Dangaphippe’s house.

"I hate it when someone says they play the trumpet, and then they pull out a cornet!" said Harry Dangaphippe

"I hear ya,” said Richard Widemouth in a voice that sounded like it needed no more convincing. “Hey I’m brought you this big empty coffee can to save the spit from the trumpet spit valve."

"Ok! Since a brass player is essentially forcing air between his lips and into the mouthpiece in order to make the sound, naturally a lot of… well… spit gets through as well. The spit valve is made to release the moisture which collects inside the trumpet during playing. The rubber or cork gasket on the valve seals it tightly
until it is time for the spit to be carefully and discretely disposed of. Some members of the trumpet family even have two or more spit valves! “Replied Harry Dangaphippe

"Really? I never knew that!” said Richard Widemouth in a voice that sounded part truly surprised, and part unbelieving that he could have gone through life to this point with no knowledge of this salient fact. "Could you give me a call when you fill the coffee can? How long do you think it will take?"

"Well," replied Harry Dangaphippe, "That depends if you just want me to fill the can with just the spit from the trumpet's spit valve produced when I play my trumpet, or can I just spit in the can?"

"I want it from the spit valve," replied Richard Widemouth in a firm and serious voice.

"Ok," replied Harry Dangaphippe. "Sometimes my friend Leroy Shempkowski borrows my trumpet to impress the lady who lives upstairs from him. Should I ask him to use the coffee can too?"

"Does it impress the chick?" asked Richard Widemouth in an incredulous comically quizzical voice.

"I don't think so. He can only play "Louie Louie" and half of "Theme From Rocky" answered Harry Dangaphippe.

"Well, I don't think you should mix it like that," said Richard Widemouth in a stern authoritative voice “I'll bring another can for him later."

"Cool, dude" said Harry Dangaphippe "What if he wants to use it before then?"

“Tell him you can’t let him use it unless he has a big empty coffee can to save the spit from the trumpet spit valve." Said Richard Widemouth in a calm instructive and reassuring voice

“Ok, but I have a big empty coffee can I can let him use to save the spit from the trumpet spit valve. Mine is Folger’s decaffeinated can. It’s the richest kind!” said Harry Dangaphippe.

“Well, I’d rather you wait until I bring you another one of mine.” Said Richard Widemouth in a firm yet pleading brotherly voice

Richard Widemouth left Harry Dangaphippe’s house and went to his first of six appointments. All of the clients wanted Richard Widemouth to insert his tongue into their anus. Most of them didn’t want a salad, but one fat guy did.

Richard Widemouth died 42 years later when he was 70.


What did you think of this story?