Monday, November 10, 2008

Marketing Schemes Redux

As I read the delightful comment from 'Sillysams' yesterday, I was immediately transported back to a happier time: a time when it was OK to whizz wildly off the porch, pass out in gutters singing 'Psycho Therapy', engage in keg races, write songs about gerbilizing, and, most importantly, come up with brilliant marketing strategies for pizza joints. As to the latter, allow me to elaborate.

One winter evening, as the Leafs typically battled weakly against the mighty Habs, and we fellas drowning in Jockey Club ale, I came up with what I felt was a superb idea. As our greasy wheel was delivered by some hapless schmo from Domino's, I got to thinking: 'What if we started up a pizza delivery company geared to the PG-13 crowd?' And, at that pivotal moment, the high-brow concept of Tearaways was born. Now I must say that, even after more than a decade, I am the only human being who feels that this idea was pure genius. So please, gentle reader, let me know your thoughts.

The idea begins and ends with this simple, but mighty, triad: pizza, sweatpants, velcro. In this light, each deliveryboy at Tearaways will be strictly vetted before hiring in the following categories: buttock firmness; rump shapliness; hemispherical rondure; showmanship; and punctuality. Why? Well, this is how Tearaways differs from other pizza joints, as you will see.

At Tearaways, each delivery boy is given a pair of sweatpants, equipped with velcro strips down each leg, and a loop of string at the waist. Once the lad arrives at the correct addres, he loops the string around the doorknob and rings the bell. When the hungry occupant opens the door, the string will grow taut, yanking open the velcro strips and de-panting the deliveryboy. Once he is pantless, the deliveryboy yells, 'Tearaways!!', and waits to collect his bounty.

Now there is no way that you can convince me that this idea would not make hundreds, nay thousands, of people ecstatic. The lonely widow? Thrilled. The lonely widower? Possibly disgusted, possibly thrilled. The single ladies? Please. The college student? It could go either way. But I think even the heterosexual lads would be diggin' this scene. Experimentation, she wrote.

Of course, there is always the ability for the deliveryboy to go rogue on the company. He might offer a large double cheese with full release pleasure pack; he might utilize the pizza box as a prop for stagette parties; or, he might wear stained and/or soiled Stanfields to sully the company name. In any case, that is the idea.


C'est ├ža.

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