Testimonial
Hi all,
I was in a funny mood today...I am sooo in love with Basic-H I just had to write a little tale about how my husband was saved this weekend...thought you might enjoy it!
Laura
Their's was a forbidden love...
She was a middle-aged woman just trying to survive on the mean streets of upper-middle class suburbia. He, a highly concentrated, environmentally friendly (and surprisingly economical!) bottle of Basic-H. Perfectly accessorized with a full complement of spray bottles suitable for every cleaning need, he promised her that no stain would ever stand between her and the nirvana that is the white glove clean home.
Such ARE the dreams of the everyday housewife...
But she had been hurt before. Oh yes. With cabinets full of laundry pre-soaks and cleansers, space-aged technology and revolutionary advances in stain removal systems, this thrifty coupon clipper knew the pain of betrayal and heartache as empty promise followed empty
promise. No, she was not so naive.
She resisted his temptations for quite some time. Prefering to live in the fantasy of what could be rather than to risk further heartbreak.
But then it happened. Clad in her cream-colored robe, she brazenly ignored the inner voice that warned she was begging for trouble while she whisked blueberry concentrate into her smoothie.
Horrified, she watched as the deep blue flecks splattered on her lapel.
Resigning herself to her fate, she spritzed the laundry pre-soak on the stains.
Whaaaaaa??? It was nearly instantaneous. The stains. BLUEBERRY CONCENTRATE for crissakes, had disappeared! She blinked hard, carrying the robe from light source to light source looking for that inevitable blue shadow only to fine...NONE.
Soon she was using Basic-H on everything. Cat got sick on the cream carpeting? No sweat. Iced tea spill? Get over it. Greasy black stove? Whatever. Smudgey glass table top? Not any more! Yea, though she walked through the Valley of the Apronless, she did not fear the big blob of warm beet puree that she dripped on her khaki shorts while baking her famous chocolate beet cake.
But could Basic-H save her marriage?
It was a pleasant gathering at a friend's home, in celebration of his birthday. They were delighted to see his sister again, this time with family in tow, having arrived just the day before from Quebec.
Quebec. Where they spit on the English language. The language of dogs and margarine eaters.
Undaunted by the language barrier, Scotty "What's this? Another chance to use my acting skills?" Johnson was soon engaged in a intricate and empassioned pantomime of his firm resolve to join them in Canada should another Bush ever land in the White House. The Quebecoise sat in rapt attention (you know...French...mimes) while Scotty, in a grand sweeping gesture that would have made Marcel Marceau use up an entire box of invisible kleenex dabbing appreciative mime tears, launched a full glass of merlot into his wife's lap. As several peony sized blossoms of deep crimson spread across her pale green linen skirt, the Quebecoise, having noted the wine was an inferior American varietal, exploded into applause, assuming the symbolism was an integral component of the actor's mythic journey.
Calmly she rose from her seat, with the patient, steady look perfected during those years she was raised by wolves (as her husband suspected by the way she so savagely beat him in Yahtzee the night before) and held her hand out for the car keys. He, baring his neck in supplication, handed them over.
She chuckled as she walked in to her home, picking up the compact bottle of pale blue liquid that fit so...perfectly...into her delicate hand. "C'mon baby, why don't you slip into something a
little more comfortable while I take care of that nasty stain for you?" In less time than it takes to say, "He will pay...oh yes...he will pay," the stain was gone.
She returned to the party, standing in the doorway while he ran to greet her, quickly falling to his knees to kiss her hand and beg her forgiveness.
"Did it come out okay?"
A pregnant pause. She lingered a moment, enjoying seeing him dangle over the precipice of He Who Is Banished to the Guest Room.
"Yes...It did."
The guests exhaled in unison, nodding and smiling as he touched his forehead to her hand.
Dutifully, he waited on her hand and foot for the rest of the evening (well, more like a good half hour, but still...), while offering a silent prayer of thanks to the wizards who had invented
Basic-H saving him from certain exile to the land of She SO Owns Your Sorry Mime's Butt Now.
