I grab the package from my work bag, where I hid it yesterday after I got the mail, tear into it, and pull out the plastic CD case. Popping it into the stereo system in the living room, I crank up the sound and hit play.
“Hello and t hank you for purchasing: How to Bring the Spark Back into Your Marriage!”
“You’re quite welcome!” I reply to the man’s voice coming from the speakers. He’s British and British people always sound smart when they talk so this should be good. “’Ello Gov’na!”
See? He’s already made me smarter. I’m talking British.
“How ‘bout a spot of tea with the Queen?”
“Make yourself comfortable as we begin our first lesson.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” I say as I take a seat on the couch.
“Lesson One: Compliments. Repeat after me, ‘You look beautiful today, insert name of wife here.’”
“You look beautiful today, insert name of wife here.”
“Have you lost weight?”
“Have you lost weight? Man, this is so easy. I am going to rock this shit.”
“Take your clothes off and give me a blow job.”
“Take your clothes off and give me a blow job.”
“That was a trick. If you repeated that last line, you will never get laid again.”
“Heeeeey, no fair! What kind of self-help is this shit!”
“Lesson Two: Helping out around the house. Repeat after me, ‘Can I help you with those dishes?’”
“This is never going to work. She’ll know something is up if I say that shit.”
“Say it or you’re never getting laid again!”
“Son of a birthday cake! Can you hear me?” I ask the stereo in confusion.
I let out a sigh and figure I better do what he tells me or he’s going to get really angry. I don’t need self-help guy angry at me or he’ll stop helping me. “Can I help you with those dishes?”
“It’s okay, honey, I’ll fold the laundry.”
“Seriously? You expect me to believe that folding laundry will get me laid? Do you even know what you’re talking about?” I ask the stereo.
“I know what I’m doing. Say it.”
Stereo guy is starting to get a little angry. I’m kind of afraid of stereo guy right now. I want to turn him off but I’m scared. He knows where I live.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ll fold the laundry,” I say nervously.
“Say it like you mean it, asshole!”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! It’s okay, honey, I’ll fold the laundry! Really, I will! I LOVE folding laundry!”
“Lesson Three: Helping out with the children. Repeat after me, ‘I’ll get up with, insert name of child here. You go back to sleep.”
“I’ll get up with, insert name of child here. You go back to sleep,” I say quickly so I can stay on stereo guy’s good side. I need to pass this shit or my penis is going to be batting solo forever.
“Why don’t you go for a day at the spa. I’ll take care of the children.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you go for a day at the spa. I’ll take care of the children.”
Maybe I judged stereo guy too quickly. I mean he’s just trying to help me. He wants what’s best for me, and what’s best for me is Jenny’s vagina.
“I’m not changing that diaper. I don’t even know if the kid’s mine.”
“I’m not changing that diaper. I don’t even know if the kid’s mine.”
“You fell for it again, douchebag! It’s like you’re not even trying. Why am I wasting my time on you?”
“Dammit! Stop giving me trick questions! You want me to fail, don’t you? I hate you, stereo guy!”
“Don’t get angry at me. My wife still gives it up every day. You’re the one with the problem.”
“I don’t have a problem! YOU have a problem! You live inside a fucking stereo! You’re stupid and your voice is stupid!”
“I’m in your house now. I know where you live and I can see you. Don’t make me angry.”
“Oh no you DIDN’T just say that to me, you piece of shit!”
I get up from the couch and run over to the stereo, pulling it off of the shelf and dropping it to the floor. “Ha! Try helping my self now, asshole!”
“I can still hear you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” I scream as I turn around in circles in the middle of the living room with my arms stretched out from my sides.
I run over to the plastic CD case I threw on the floor earlier and pick it up, checking the back for information about the guy who recorded it. I will not let him terrorize me!
“Oh, ho, ho, Dr. Earl Michaelson! What kind of a British name is that? Wait, Duke of Earl, wasn’t he British? Is this the Duke of Earl? Is the Duke of Earl threatening me? I know who you are and where YOU live now! You messed with the wrong man, Duke of Earl!”
I’m going to call this guy and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Big talk from a little Duke, stereo man!”
I pull out my cell phone and look up this guy’s information on Google. Oh, Google, how I love thee. A phone number for the whole world to call. Don’t mind if I do. I dial the number and wait for someone to answer.
“Is the Duke of Earl there? I don’t know, like the song. ‘Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl, Earl, Earl. Shut up! I have a GREAT singing voice!”
I pull the phone away from my ear when I hear the dial tone.
“Stupid Duke of Earl. You need to hire better help to answer your phones,” I mutter as I hit redial.
“Yes, is Doctor Earl there?” I say, making my voice deeper. “I don’t care if he’s with a patient, put him on the damn phone! Don’t you dare hang up on me! Shit!”
I hit redial again, clearing my throat and preparing a different voice. “Is Dr. Earl there? This is his mother,” I say in a high pitched female voice. “Oh, his mother’s dead? Probably because he killed her with his awful advice! Put him on the phone!”
Dial tone again. What is wrong with these people?
“We’re not done with our lesson yet, dickwad.”
“I’m not a dickwad, YOU’RE A DICKWAD!” I yell to the broken stereo on the ground. How the fuck is he still talking to me? This is like the movie ‘Chuckie’. That damn doll just wouldn’t die. How the hell do you kill a CD that won’t die?
I call the number again and try a different tactic. “Yes, this is Punjab from Czechoslovakia. Dr. Earl ordered something from us and I need to speak to him right away. What do you mean Czechoslovakia doesn’t exist anymore? When the fuck did that happen? Wow, 1992, seriously? I probably should have learned that in school, huh. No kidding? But it’s still there, right? It didn’t like, blow up or something? Interesting. No, no message.”
I hang up the phone and realize I was fooled again. Like they would really just get rid of some place called Czechoslovakia. What would they do with all the Checkians? I wasn’t born yesterday, I know when someone is pulling my leg.
Since calling the Duke and telling him off isn’t going to work, I’ll just send him an email. I pull up Gmail on my phone and type in his email address that I found on Google.