Friday, February 25, 1994

I was sitting on the front porch with my good friend Laurel, firing bottle rockets at passing cars. Naturally it was snowing like crazy, but the small fire we had built in the back seat of my neighbor's car was keeping us sufficiently warm.

Just then, our friend the Archangel Gabriel flew down from Heaven, an excited, radiant smile upon his glorious, heavenly face.

"I've just had a wonderful idea," he said.

"Let me guess," Laurel said. "You're here to make snow angels."

"Even better," Gabriel replied. "I want to have a Tupperware party!"

Well, it didn't take an expert on horse evisceration to recognize the sheer brilliance of that plan. I agreed to have the party at my place. Gabriel would send out invitations, and Laurel said she'd run by the cemetery to pick up some fresh flowers to liven up the place.

---

Later that night, the guests arrived. Naturally, Crank Boy was there, as well as my drinking buddy Beerbelly the Invisible Clown. We were all pleasantly surprised when Satan showed up, even if he was, by his own admission, "only there to heckle that pansy angel baby." And no one was more surprised than I was when my 18th century Bavarian friend, old mad King Ludwig, arrived, mumbling something about building castles on the Cedar River.

Laurel and I passed around trays of little crackers with dollops of mayonnaise on top and a pinch of garlic salt to boot. Crank Boy, catching the generous, giddy mood, passed around his flask of moonshine, fresh from his Uncle Jesse's still.

"Now that we've had our refreshments," Gabriel said, "let's begin, shall we?" He stood up before us and said, "My name is the Archangel Gabriel, and I'm your local Tupperware representative."

"Put away those opera glasses," muttered old mad King Ludwig. "You're making me paranoid."

"Our first model today," Gabriel continued, "is this excellent transparent bowl-like container, complete with this handy transparent lid to keep everything fresh. You can see how deep this bowl-like container is, making it a suitable container for casseroles, tossed salads..."

"Pig's blood," Crank Boy suggested.

"Yes, pig's blood too," Gabriel agreed, "and remember, simply press on the center of the lid, and when you hear that familiar Tupperware SNAP..." He SNAPped the lid to demonstrate. "...why your pig's blood will remain fresh for decades to come!"

"That's very handy," Crank Boy whispered to Beerbelly. "I'm always having a problem keeping my pig's blood fresh." Beerbelly nodded gravely.

"Our next model," Gabriel continued, "comes in this handy dodecahedronic shape, for all those special occasions when you just can't avoid storing a dodecahedron. Yes, even dodecahedrons get stale eventually, so why not plan ahead?"

We all nodded. That Gabriel certainly knew his Tupperware theory.

"There's a titmouse in the closet," said old mad King Ludwig.

"And here's a handy model," Gabriel continued, "in the shape of a human torso. I think we can all see the need for this model..."

---

Two hours later, after most of the guests had passed out, Gabriel, Laurel, and I examined the order forms.

"You did very well tonight," Laurel said. "Even Satan leapt at the chance to keep his rotting leg muscle collection fresh."

"Indeed," Gabriel replied.

"Perhaps next week you could host an Avon party," I suggested.

Gabriel's eyes lit up. Yes sir, I said to myself, that's what friends are for.