Tales from The Cup and Chaucer: Punning Business Names

Skip the B.S.

By Skip Eisiminger

“In the pun, two strings of thought are tangled into one acoustic knot.”—Arthur Koestler

“Puns are the droppings of soaring wits.”—Victor Hugo

CLEMSON South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—12/26/11—It all began quite innocently. One day Gudrun “Goody” Greef, found herself browsing for lingerie at Bare Assets; a few weeks later, she was studying the maternity clothes in Mother Frocker and, nine months later, the clerk in Little Hang-Ups melted Gudrun’s Visa card.

Gudrun’s new husband, Solomon Gomorrah, was similarly afflicted. A short man, he bought his clothes at Napoleon’s Closet. His barber was Julius Scissor; his favorite restaurant, Eats of Eden; his favorite bakery, Let Them Eat Cake; and his favorite pet shop, Barkingham Palace. Goody and Solomon, it seems, were compulsives of an odd tribe.

One day, however, while Solomon was in The Marquis de Suede, he sensed that the clerk, Uneeda Vest, would understand his problem, and his intuition proved accurate. In fact, Mr. Vest said he thought Solomon’s compulsion not only common but harmless. He, for example, hired Partners in Grime to do his janitorial work, C’est Cheese to cater his annual Christmas party, and Traders of the Lost Art to decorate his store with antique dildos.

Another customer in the store, Miss Dee Meana, who’d overheard the conversation, said she had this curious disorder herself. “I never eat anywhere but A Deli Named Desire,” she said. “And a couple times a year, I sneak in the back door of The Best Little Hair House in Town to get a perm.”

About that time, Miss Meana’s poodle tugged at her leash and barked. “Oh, yes,” Dee said, “Pet Showfur drives Spike here through the park every afternoon, and I buy all her food at Little Arf ‘n Annie.”

That night, Solomon told Gudrun of the conversation he’d had, and both breathed freely for the first time in weeks. They were not freaks or aberrations; in fact, they might even be normal. When Solomon read that George Washington had preferred to stay at Martha’s Inn when he was away from Mt. Vernon, they felt positively vindicated. Thus began their concerted effort, for the closet door was open. The Yellow Pages turned to sheets of pure gold. Henceforth, the places where they shopped could be expensive or cheap, friendly or rude, but if they didn’t have an adorably clever name, they didn’t profit from the Gomorrahs’ business. When Solomon was transferred, he hired Mother Trucker to move them, and when Gudrun’s mirror was broken in the move, she called Kiss My Glass.

The veiled insults of former friends sailed over them without mussing their coifs. The Golden Pages were irresistible. Gudrun shopped blissfully for lingerie at The Pleasure Chest, and for Easter bonnets at Hats in the Belfry. Solomon happily hired Sherlock Tomes to find an out-of-print book, Maid to Order to help Gudrun with the housecleaning, and Eufloria to arrange the flowers at his mother’s funeral. When their VCR began pleating the video tapes, he took the machine to Sherlock Ohms. Nevertheless, life was not a bowl of cherries from Currant Thymes.

The Gomorrahs’ decline began with a large bill from Cut the Crepe after a party Gudrun threw for her bridge club. Then came bar bills for Solomon from Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder and credit-card bills for Gudrun from Dressed to Thrill. After a night at The Slipped Disco, there were medical bills. An ill-advised vacation at Paradise Casino led them to The Happy Hocker. The last financial straw, however, was a frivolous lawsuit that ruined Solomon’s Here’s Johnny portable-toilet business. These were desperate times, but it wasn’t until Solomon caught himself buying a sombrero and a serape from El L. Bean and Gudrun signed up for aerobics at Bringing Up the Rear that they realized there was tarnish on the Golden Pages. Together, they sought a support group.

They found one at Inn Cahoots where, one weekend in the Poconos, 30 people afflicted just like themselves bared their tormented souls. There was a New Ager who ran up huge bills at Sirius Fitness, a mystery-book lover who spent his entire paycheck at Murder Ink, and a tropical fish fan who changed his will to include Tanks-A-Lot. Poverty was the common denominator.

Gudrun and Solomon vowed that some financial, if not linguistic, changes would be made. Gudrun promised to shop at Deja New. She canceled her contract with The Other Woman maid service, vowed to do her own laundry instead of sending it to Washbucklers, and started patronizing the Eat No Evil salad bar. Solomon agreed that henceforth he’d get his haircuts at The Clip Joint and eat at The Bare Bones.

But the strain proved too much for Solomon’s heart. He collapsed and died after inhaling a cherry-cheese cake at Just Desserts. Blinded by grief, Gudrun phoned The Baggit Funeral Parlor and The Sweet Chariot Helicopter Service to scatter his ashes. Today, she lives alone at Still Hopes Retirement Community. Once a month, she has her hair dyed blue at Curl Up and Dye.

Author’s note: all the business names above were drawn from the real Yellow Pages.