I have to admit that the commercial for the slap chop is one of the most convincing sales pitches ever produced by man, but it’s still bogged down by the infernal lies of all infomercials. For instance, it claims, “Call in twenty minutes and we’ll double your order!” The commercial runs 24/7. You’re ALWAYS inside the 20 minute timeframe. Or perhaps there’s a three minute window sometime during the day. The one person who procrastinates for 21 minutes but still ends up calling gets screwed out of a deal. Do they argue with the salesperson?
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“Your commercial said as long as I called within 20 minutes, I’d receive a SECOND Slap Chop and Graty for free.”
“I’m sorry sir, but it’s been 20 minutes and fourteen seconds since the commercial aired.”
“I HAD TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.”
“…For twenty minutes?”
“I have problems, okay? Not to get into anything too specific, but I don’t have a lot of time in the day. Which is why I need the Slap Chop. Times two. I need double the Slap Chop.”
“I’m afraid we still won’t be able to honour the deal offered by the commercial unless you call before the twenty minute deadline. Maybe if you called back in four minutes you’ll make the next scheduled commercial offer timeline.”
“I CAN’T. I’ll be in the bathroom by then.”
“Sir… Do you need help? Is there a place I can donate money to? Like does your problem have marathons for it or…”
“TOO LATE!” *CLICK*
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They also say to beware of imitators. Why? What could be so wrong with a Slap Chop knockoff?
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“Guess what I got in the mail today, honey? A Smack Cutter!”
“A Smack Cutter? What’s that?”
“It’s like a Slap Chop, only it’s made by Cambodians instead of the Chinese!”
“How does it work?”
“Easy! Let me show you. Hand me that onion over there, sugarbottom! Now watch as I place it under the Smack Cutter, and… prest-OH! MY HAND! THE SMACK CUTTER WENT THROUGH MY HAND!”
“How did that happen?”
“I don’t know! I just don’t know! God help me! My wound… I think it’s infected. There’s something on the Smack Cutter. It smells like almonds! I think I’ve been poisoned!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call an ambulance!”
“It’s too late… Too… late… Honey…”
“Don’t leave me!”
“Why… why didn’t I order the Slap Chop instead? It was only a cent more… So… cold…”
“STAY WITH ME!”
“I want to go to heaven, Forrest.”
-
Harrowing stuff, I’m sure.
Seriously, though, this guy does stuff with the Slap Chop that doesn’t seem mechanically possible. Did you see when he takes the Slap Chop apart? It’s like watching Shiva pull a tiger inside out. Why does it even do that? Why would I need to completely invert my Slap Chop to clean it? I’m fairly certain I can get a brush that would fit inside. I don’t need to prolapse in order to wipe my ass. There is such a thing as too convenient, like your mother.
Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? It’s like they grew him somewhere to sell the Slap Chop. No one should be able to convey that much information in that amount of time. I feel like Johnny Memonic just from listening to him.
Why the hell do I have to call in order to buy the Slap Chop anyway? Why can’t I just go to the store and buy it? What makes it so special that I have to wait six to nine weeks to get it in the mail, assuming they don’t just overnight it. Do they screen their buyers over the line? They should. The Slap Chop seems like it could be used for evil if it fell into the wrong hands. Imagine if someone slapped you with the Slap Chop. Really imagine it. I’m not kidding, think about it. I want you to feel the cold steel imprinting itself into your flesh. Your gums bleed as it cuts through your cheek. A lightning bolt pattern is imbedded on your face, like a forgotten sibling of Harry Potter. Darkness seeps in as blood flows out.
That is the terrible power of the Slap Chop. They should make people wait four weeks for background check like the do with guns.
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