THE LAST STRAW
THE LAST STRAW
By Leon Berger
“That’s it. That’s the last straw.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Are you listening, Lois. I said ‘that’s the last straw’.”
“If you are going to tell me the story about the 5 cent malted you shared with
your brother, both of you drinking out of the same glass at the same time with separate straws until one day the candy store owner offered only one straw, because it was ‘ the last straw’, I have heard that story before.”
“No, this is different. I’m going to give up writing.”
“What has that go to do with the ‘last straw?,”
“Just this. I wrack my brains for ideas, pounding out my stories on the keyboard until my fingernails are pushed up to my knuckles and sometimes I don’t get to bed until Leno signs off and then what do I get?”
“I don’t know Harry, what do you get?”
“What do I get? I get $5.00 from the OZARK SENIOR CITIZEN for a great story and now I’m being hassled by the I.R.S. because my accountant said I am a ‘professional writer’. That’s the last straw and that’s why I am giving up writing.”
“I thought you enjoyed writing.”
“I do, I really do, but I also enjoy painting. That’s going to be my new profession.”
“Hold on. Where are you going to do this painting?”
“The garage is too hot and I’m certainly not going do my painting in any room with carpeting. I think the kitchen will be ideal.”
“The kitchen, huh? Over my dead body.”
“Lois, when you listen to what I have to say, I think you’ll cut me a little slack. Do you know that a Picasso recently sold for $104 million? And get this, a simple painting of a step-on garbage pail by some guy named Lichtenstein sold for $5.1 million. I tell you the big money is in painting, not writing.”
“I don’t think you know who Lichtenstein is. He is an important figure in American art, and don’t you even dare compare your paintings to Picasso.”
“Lois, I’ve thought this out carefully. What I lack in artistic creativity will be made up by my business acumen. I know where I can acquire a list of individuals who have signed up for cryogenic preservation. I will sell them my paintings exclusively.”
“What do you mean by ‘cryogenic preservation?”
“I’m sure you have read of individuals who have indicated in their will that when they expire, they wish to ensure that their head will be surgically removed from their body, placed in some form of thermos container until futuristic science permits reattachment to a compatible body. I’m going to offer them a proposition they will find difficult to resist.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am. I’m going to guarantee them a return of 300 percent on the price they pay for the painting and this will be backed by Lloyds of
“You’ve discussed this with Lloyds of
“Yup. They’re flying over one of their employees to check my paintings and that’s why I need the kitchen table. I promise I‘ll clear the area when we are ready to eat.”
“When do you pay the 300 percent?”
“The 300 percent will be paid when the head demands payment. This offer will be limited for 50 years.”
“Excuse me dear, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?”
“First I am going to see if there is a neurosurgeon in town that will check your head. Then I am going to locate the outfit that does cryogenic preservation and see if they will take the whole individual if the wife consents. If they just take heads, I think I can arrange that too.”