Little Things - 5. Musings

Musings

Fred Simpson slammed the Yellow Pages onto his desk, flung himself into his chair and flipped opened the book roughly in the centre. He stuck the middle finger of his right hand into his mouth to dampen it and started to flip the pages, while mumbling to himself, “K…L…M, here we are.”

He flipped a couple more pages. “Mud…no, not mud removal…mur…bah, not Murky’s Window Cleaners…ah, here we are, Muses…hmmmm—he ran his forefinger down the listings— Muses R Us, Muses 4 U n Me, Muse Warehouse, The. Ah, here’s the one, Muse Depot, The.”

Fred punched the numbers into his phone. The call was picked up after a couple of rings, but there was no immediate answer. “Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?"

Finally, an auto-attendant replied, “Hello, and welcome to The Muse Depot. We have muses available for all of your muse-related needs. If you are unsure about the type of muse that is best suited for your needs, please speak to one of our Muse Specialists. They are here to serve you. Please press one.”

Tapping his fingers while he waited for a live Muse Specialist, Fred thought about his most recent muse. “Bloody ungrateful,” he grumbled to himself. “All I wanted was a little inspiration. What did she do? Just walks—”

His grumbling was cut short when a voice interrupted him. “Good afternoon. This is Mary, I am a Muse Depot Muse Specialist, and how can I help you?”

“I need a new muse. Mine has abandoned me in my hour of need.”

“Oh, I am terribly sorry to hear that sir. Did you purchase your muse from The Muse Depot?”

Fred frowned. “Ahh…no.”

“Well, thank goodness. Our muses simply don’t get up and leave their musee.” Mary chuckled at her little joke.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yes, now, what kind of muse did you have in mind? Male, female, or animal perhaps? We have some beautiful statues, trees, lakes? Anything in particular you were thinking of?”

Fred was confused. “A lake?”

“Oh, wonderful! You’re interested in the lake.”

Fred could hear the tapping of computer keys. “No, I just wanted to know if you can have a lake as a muse?”

“Well, just about anything can be a muse, sir,” Mary said patiently as if speaking to a small child.

“Then what is special about your service?”

“We supply muses, sir.”

“Well, if anything can be a muse, why do we need your services, Mary?”

“Well we supply them, sir,” Mary repeated. Her feathers had been ruffled.

Fred imagined her as a magpie.

He banged a fist on the desk, “Mary! Pay attention, dear. Can a clock be a muse?”

“Why yes, of course.”

Taking a deep breath he plunged in for another attempt to reach Mary, who seemed to be thicker than he first thought. “Then why do I need to buy one from your depot, Mary, if anything like my mantle clock can be a muse?”

“Well…” Mary replied through gritted teeth. “That’s what we do we; supply muses to artistic-type people who can’t seem to have an original thought on their own without one.”

Realizing that he was getting nowhere, Fred decided to quit fighting and said, “Mary, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you, and I want to wish you well in your chosen career."

“There’s no need to be rude, sir,” Mary said loudly.

Fred jumped to his feet, furious. “Damn it woman, I’m not being rude! Frankly I think you and your business are completely stupid. I’ve got half a mind to write to the local newspaper about this idiotic experience and your business.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve been inspired to write, sir.”

“I am certainly inspired to tell the truth about your sham of a business,” retorted Fred.

“Wonderful. That will be $35.00 plus fifteen percent tax, for a total of $40.25. Will that be VISA or MasterCard?”

“What?” Fred spluttered. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I inspired you, sir,” Mary replied.

Fred could hear the smile in her voice.

“I provided a successful muse service experience, as per your request. Now will that be VISA or MasterCard?”

Fred banged his head on the desk in defeat. "VISA."

C’est fini