Friday Guest Mock: An Open Letter to the Guy Selling Pine Cones Near My House

This installment of our award-deserving Friday Guest Mock series is by our pal Gino.  Enjoy!

Well, kind sir, it’s been a good few months since we first caught each other’s cold, unfriendly stares at the corner on that cold December day. Every time I see you, my heart seems to beat a little faster; maybe because of the fantastic pitch I’m about to hear, or fear-your call. Without missing a beat, you always offer me the opportunity to purchase what seems to be a pine cone with vomit all over it. Every time, I offer you the same look, and walk on by. But as repulsed as I look on my exterior, on the inside, the curiosity and joy I feel knows no bounds. There’s just one problem…

I don’t know how to tell you this, but I feel like it’s about time you took the next step in entrepreneurship.

You’ve got the market cornered when it comes to painted pine cones. You have some with glitter, some with google eyes and you have some with twigs as little arms. Shit, man, you even have some that you dressed as little Christmas trees! I applaud your talent. But, as I’ve learned the hard way, all good things must come to an end. That time may be closing in for you and your secondhand cone business.

Don’t fret my good fellow, for I am here for you! I will offer to you, free of charge as always, a solid footing into your next foray into selling garbage to schmucks from the city. With my help, you’ll be living in a deluxe dumpster in the ritziest alley of the city!

First of all, pine cones only have one good season, and that’s fall. What about the other seasons? Since it’s spring time, flowers would be the best career move for you. Think about it. They’re all over, and you don’t have to drink a handle of Jack, then break into JoAnn Fabrics to grab a gallon of shitty Tempra paint (you can still drink the Jack, since it may enhance your flower picking prowess, though).

People love flowers. Seeing as how the economy is in a depressed state more and more, people are buying flowers for their significant others, since trips to anywhere but a Wal-Mart parking lot in North Utica will cost you $16,000 and two pints of virgin blood. This is your chance to get out there, steal things that belong to other people and then sell them back to them for a profit! Like Charlie Sheen says; you win, they win, it’s bi-winning!

But flowers can’t be your only gig. You have to diversify your bonds, motherfucker. You can take all that stolen paint and use it on boxes! Then sell them! Lots of rubes are looking for a good cardboard box crudely drawn on with fecal matter and blood! Hell, I can’t even mention the amount of times I wanted to carelessly throw money to someone who clearly did not have my best interests at heart. In fact, here’s a story…

I know this lady that owns a laundromat. Frankly, it’s a shit-hole. She had the ugliest laundromat in the history of clothing. But one day, as I wandered in to bullshit and steal some coat hangers, I noticed that the place had a different feel. But why, you ask? On top of the non-working laundry soap dispenser lay a box…a painted box. It was shit brown, green and piss yellow. She bought it for $10. That could’ve been you, man.

Lastly, I’ve noticed that you’re much too surly to be selling products. Unless you’re about to stab a guy for stealing your last Marlboro Red, you have no need to scowl. Put on your best sober face and get out there, Buckshot! Greet the customer with a toothless smile and sell your case (rape is not selling your case more than it is a felony). Just remember the rules and you’ll be fine: Meet, Greet, Thank and Shank.

That’s all I’ve got for you, man. Take that advice and run with it. Hopefully, next time I come whistling through, you and I can lock eyes and share a good laugh. Either that, or you can curse at me while you piss on a trash can.

We’re totally out of guest mocks and could really use some more…especially if you haven’t written one in a while.  You know the drill – no manifestos or racial slurs – otherwise fire them off the mockable (at) gmail and we’ll throw it up here on Friday morning or some other day when metten drank too much the night before (which is most nights).  Thanks! We really appreciate it.