Things were going kinda slow down at the Fly Tying Love Center and it bothered Marvin Pincus a lot.
He found it hard to believe that, out of all the people in the valley, none of them needed love advice and the proper type of fishing fly to illustrate it.
He had the sign made and put in the yard, and he’d obviously had great results with the Jones kid and good ol’ Dewey. Since Marvin’s advice to Dewey to shower before asking a girl for a date, Dewey Decker, the Fertilizer King, had met Emily Stickles, the love of his life.
Now the fishing-fly earrings part of the business was going great. Women all over town were wearing dingle-dangle earrings with Marvin’s point-clipped fishing flies hanging therefrom. He learned that short ladies tended to go for the smaller dries, like Griffith’s Gnats and Royal Coach-
men, and the taller ladies leaned toward salmon streamers.
For the “simple black dress” that women seem to need, Marvin discovered a pure black stonefly nymph tied on a number 6 to be just the right touch. Some of the ladies slipped Marvin’s wife, Marjorie, a couple of bucks to help buy more feathers and hooks.
But on the love advice front, there was a dearth of heartbroken customers.
“What would you think,” Marvin said, “if I ran an ad in the Valley Weekly Miracle?”
“For what?” Marjorie said at breakfast.
“You know … love advice.”
“Well, you have the sign out front. I think everyone in the valley already knows about it.”
“But they’re not coming in.”
Marjorie smiled. “Honey, some people find it hard to talk to others about their personal problems. That’s probably it.”
Marvin got a piece of paper and began writing. Then he’d scratch it out and start again. This went on through both bacon and toast.
“How’s it coming, Honey?”
“About got it right, I think, Marge.”
“May I see it?”
He handed it to her.
The best love advice in the valley, tied up with the appropriate fishing fly. Call the Fly Tying Love Center for an appointment. Results guaranteed.
“What do you think?”
Marjorie just smiled and nodded her head. What she thought, however, was that retirement isn’t for sissies.
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