EXCITEMENT FOR SALE
By STEPHEN WILDER
Suppose a salesman knocked at your door and said: "I'm selling happiness—any kind your heart desires. Every shape, size or description—and the price is right." Would you know instantly the thing you wanted above all else? Maybe you'd better think it over in advance. The salesman might turn up any day.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic January 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He was a mood-merchant, a happiness-huckster, peddling dreams from door to door.
Mary-Jean closed the cover of the current Woman's Home Journal with a little sigh and walked into the kitchen to put a light under the stew she was cooking for supper. One thing about Tom, she thought—Tom was her husband—there was no problem with leftovers because Tom liked stew.
But there ought to be a law, Mary-Jean thought, against such magazines as Woman's Home Journal. She sighed again, remembering the many stories she had read to pass the afternoon hours, as if, despite the careful pattern and routine of the household chores, killing time was still the most important function of the housewife.