Most readers of a local newspaper probably skipped over the boxed display advertisement of a woman who specializes in family acupuncture and herbal therapies, but as I read the copy closely the chords of the great challenge song “Anything You Can Do” played in my head. So Annie get your gun and I will get mine and we will let the people decide who is doing the most for the public good.
Annie claims that “2011 makes 8 great years in practice.” I have been a practical joker for over half a century.
Annie’s acupuncture treatment which includes 15-minute manual therapy costs $45. Instead of sticking people with pins, I offer a free treatment of sticking them with acute puns and a reading from my manual, a 1947 Johnson Smith catalog.
$45 is also the price of Annie’s low level laser treatment. My low wheeze treatment includes a barrage of switches on gags such as the magician’s lament (“Who was that lady I sawed you with last night?”), the wail of the nudist hunter (“I like to hunt bear”), and the bookie’s complaint (“They don’t clock my horses. They use a sundial.”)
Annie charges $60 for 60 minutes of craniosacral treatment. After being subjected to my banal cackle treatment for thirty seconds, my clients have had enough to cure what ails them.
Annie’s facial rejuvenation costs $30 each or 8 for $225. One treatment of getting hit in the puss with a sack filled with flour puts the bloom of spring in the cheeks of my stooges-er-clients. Those who order ahead can get a double dose special for $14.95: one custard pie to wear, one to eat on the way to the cleaners.
The smoking cessation plan Annie promotes may easily take six sessions at a cost of $250. Once in the joking sensation program involving surefire jests such as squirting lapel flowers, hot toothpicks, and sneezing powder, my clients soon give up cigs for gags and become the hit of the “lampshade on the head” crowd.
Annie’s fertility consultations may pay off in the short term with a bundle of joy, but my hilarity consultations provide a perpetual wombful of fun.
Annie’s icon of a woman in a yoga position before the yin/yang symbol is pretty passive when contrasted with my trademark of a prone man glaring at a banana peel under the mirthful open mouths of Olsen and Johnson.
Annie only takes cash or checks whereas I gleefully accept trades like used whoopee cushions and beanies dotted with buttons proclaiming nostalgic knee-slappers like “Open the door, Richard” and “That’s a joke, son.”
Annie and I are alike in one way: we both have a high regard for LLC. She uses the abbreviation as a legal disclaimer to proclaim her limited liability. I use those three letters to emphasize my business in life: Lots of Laughs and Chuckles.