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Purse Sueded
“Okay ladies—and gentlemen—as promised in the last hour, this is our
final showing today
for Purse Sueded.
There is no other handbag like it on the planet.
It is so “suede-ably”—is that a word?--soft, so
delightfully durable, so
wonderfully designed, you will
use it in every season. The
price, phone number and website address are on your screen.
I encourage you to call now or log on to our website—the supplies
are going fast! It looks like
we’ve only got about 4 minutes remaining, but hurry and call or log on
now. What I like about
Purse Sueded is how the
designers have added a complete set of liners.
The liner is zipped into the interior; and if the liner gets dirty
or you just get tired of the look, you can unzip it and
voila! It comes right out…see,
like this… I really love the
zebra look, but that’s just me.
The liner is totally wash machine safe.
Also, just for today in this last showing, remember
Purse Sueded comes with 3
bottles of Purse Sueded WP
(Weather Protection). Just
spray it on and after just 20 minutes to let it dry, the rain and snow
just beads right off your new hand bag.
And, the cool thing is those 3 bottles will last for about 3 years…
Okay, I’m being told by our Producer that
Purse Sueded has SOLD OUT.
Thank you everybody so much for getting
Purse Sueded—I know you will
love this handbag; and if you are giving one as a gift, your spouse will
absolutely love it. Thanks
again!”
“All right everyone, we’ve gone to the network promo,” Jim the director
announced.
“Whew! I need a break—I don’t
know why, but I was nervous.
Probably because it was the last show for
Purse Sueded—the pressure was
on. I know I was talking too
fast again.” Annie sat down on the couch located behind the cameras,
specifically set up for break times for the on air personnel. She sipped
on a large Starbucks coffee, which was now beginning to get cold.
“Want me to microwave that for you?”
Jim gently asked, smiling.
“Oh, sure…that’d be nice. I’m tired.”
Jim walked over and placed the cup into the microwave.
“Have you thought about— ”
“Have I thought about what we were talking about during lunch yesterday?”
“Yes, have you?”
“Jim, I can’t stop thinking
about it. In fact, I had a
hard time sleeping last night, which may explain why I’ve been drinking so
much coffee today.”
Jim handed the cup back, now steaming.
“Thank you.” Annie sipped it
again. “Ohh, so much better.
You guys have the air conditioning set way too low in here.”
“We want you to stay awake.”
“Very funny. But seriously,
though… when you told me your story about how you grew up, and how mean
and awful your step dad was toward you; and then how when you got bigger,
you punched him in the face and ran away.
I just couldn’t get over the fact that you were just a teenager,
homeless... out there in the
streets. How did you live
through all of that?”
“I slept in places that most people couldn’t begin to believe. Being
homeless isn’t what I was used to, but I did what one must do with or
without family support, because at that stage in my life there wasn’t much
they could do to help me.”
“Who helped you?”
“Help for the homeless can come from many walks of life: construction,
hospitals and offices; but my help finally came from a kid I knew from
school. He convinced his
parents to take me in.”
“And those people took you to church?”
“Yeah, well at first I did not want to go.
But the more I heard from my friend how awesome it was, the more
persuaded I became.”
“There’s that word.”
“What word?”
“Persuaded.
It was going through my head all night.
I think that’s what’s happened to me; I’m persuaded that you are
absolutely right. I want to
go to church with you and your kids on Sunday.
I need to be there.”
“You are most delightfully and wonderfully welcome.” Paul laughed. “You
are always welcome.
I’ll pick you up: I’ll text you with the details.
Annie, this is so awesome—God has
answered my prayers.”
“I’ve been praying a lot lately, too…
It’s ironic, isn’t it?
After hawking Purse Sueded for
the last 2 hours?”
--bro. tim pickl Originally posted on FaithWriters -- Check it out: Return to Tim Pickl's Poetry Page
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