
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, June 14, 1995                   TAG: 9506140040
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

MAYBE I'LL DIRECT ORDER UNDERWEAR

This direct-mail company I once ordered a pair of britches from really knows how to hurt a guy who hasn't bought so much as a change of underwear in the past two years.

I got a letter from the top man himself. It said:

"I hate to bring this to your attention, Mr. Beagle, but your name is scheduled for removal from our regular mailing list - very soon."

The words burned into my brain, and I felt a heavy sense of guilt.

"Now what am I going to do?" I asked the greatest station wagon driver of them all. "I'm about to be kicked off this guy's mailing list because I haven't direct-ordered anything lately. It's not fair, I tell you."

"I hadn't said anything," the driver said, cutting down the volume on her birdcalls tape, "but those pants always looked a little odd to me."

"That's because they have these little sliding panels in the waist that let you expand if you have to," I said. "But this is serious. It's like I didn't keep my word or something."

"Sliding panels, eh?" the driver said, listening to a startling passage of wren calls.

I read her more of the letter:

"It happens at every direct-mail company. The costs of mailing to customers who do not order must be cut. No one wants this to happen - especially me. But sooner or later, every direct-mail company must face the fact that some customers won't be back."

"You see?" I said. "They're up in the boardroom now, talking about me. I know what I'll do. I'll order a pair of those shorts with the sliding panels. Maybe they'll take that as an act of good faith."

"Right," the driver said. "Then you'll have a pair of shorts that let you expand, and pretty soon you're the size of Fort Lewis Mountain."

"I must say, madam," I said with dignity, "that I don't appreciate your bringing my size into this matter. This has nothing to do with mere physical proportions. Nay, madam, it is a matter far more profound than mere human tissue. It is a matter of one's integrity in a world now devoid of taste."

"Whatever," the driver said, leaving to restock her tubular bird feeder that hangs from a tree limb and feeds most of the squirrels in this end of the county.

I dunno. I may write this guy and ask him if a fairly large underwear purchase will save my good name.

Direct mail is my favorite way to buy underwear anyway, but I don't intend to beg.

by CNB