She had been looking for jollity all her life until, one day, someone suggested that she had always brought it with her.  “Then why don’t I feel it?” she asked.

“It’s like a fish that’s always been in the water,” said her friend, April, who had made the suggestion, “it doesn’t notice it.”

“Then what I should have always been doing was looking for the antithesis of jollity,” said Jane, “so I’d notice it when it came back.”

“You could try that.”

“But I got married,” said Jane, “you’d think I’d have tried that.”

“You’re like a sad clown,” said April, “who lifts the spirits of everybody around her.”  This came as somewhat a surprise to Jane, who always considered herself shy, until she got to know someone, but she silently accepted the assessment.

They were sitting in April’s kitchen.  In the backyard, their children were playing.  The afternoon sun was shining in on them, and little specks of dust were slowly trading places in the beam of light.  It was always like this, every Friday, peaceful, until darkness descended and the children came inside looking for something to eat.

There was, of course, a knock at the door.  April went downstairs to the foyer.  Jane could see, looking down into the foyer, the top of a head, male, hair neatly parted, and some kind suitcase by his side.  He appeared to be very overweight.  She could see him bulging out from either side of Jane.

They talked for awhile.  Jane yelled down at them, “what’s he selling?”

April widened the door and let the man inside.  He carried his suitcase into the living room and set it down on the carpet, knelt beside it, and began to open it.  April walked up to the kitchen and poured herself some more coffee.  Jane gave her a look, with her hands raised to her shoulders.  April just shrugged.  Jane followed her into the living room.

“What are you selling?” Jane asked the man.

He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.  “Love.  Adventure.”

“What’s in the suitcase.”

“A vacuum cleaner.  You can buy that too if you like.”

“I’ve had enough love and adventure in my life,” said Jane, “and I’d settle for a good back rub and a gin and tonic.”

“We want the full demonstration,” said April.

“My lady, I am forbidden to touch your shoulders,” said the man.

“I was kidding,” said Jane.  

April had a perfectly good vacuum cleaner in the closet, but her floors were dirty.  “I will give you,” said the man, “a demonstration.”  He opened the suitcase and took out the parts of the vacuum cleaner, placing them neatly on the floor.  April could see a spot of sweat on his lower back.  His neck was bulging out around his collar, which was too tight, and his tie only came down about two thirds of the way to his waist.  “Do you know,” said the man, “how a vacuum works?”

“It sucks in the air,” said April.

“But how is the vacuum created?  Do you know?”

“I suppose not.”

“Neither do I.  It’s a mystery, and that’s what makes them such fantastic machines.  But believe me, I will show you, that our vacuum creates the best vacuum there is.  It does the best job.  It is certainly worth the five payments of $15.99.”

“Can it pick up quarters off the floor?” asked Jane.

“Can it pick up quarters?” said the man, fitting the pieces together.  “I will show you what it can pick up.”  He took a tissue out of the suitcase and opened it up.  He raised out of it dense metal ball.  “These are lead revolutionary war musket balls,” he said.  “Do you wan to hold one?  They weigh ten times as much as a quarter, if not more.  Do you know how much these cost?  You don’t want to know.  Each one could pay for thousands of vacuum cleaners.  And yet they let me use these for demonstrations, because it’s that important to show firsthand the sucking power of the vacuum.  That is the kind of company I work for.”

He stood up, and had to steady himself agains the coffee table.  The vacuum cleaner had been correctly assembled.  He plugged it in.  He dropped four of the musket balls down on the carpet and turned on the vacuum.  It made a pleasant, contented sounding hum, as though an athlete warming up for an event.  He took the nozzle and bent over to the musket  balls and pushed the button, and there was a great whooshing sound, and the musket balls were indeed, one by one, sucked up into the vacuum cleaner.

“Won’t that damage it?” said Ann.

“Not a bit,” said the man.  They could hear the musket balls rattling.  He turned off the vacuum and wiped his face with the handkerchief.  He turned to Jane.  “I don’t believe we’ve had an introduction, the two of us,” he said.  “My name is Alfred Cockspittle, and this is the Succulum Sanitaire Perfecto, model 765.  It is quite simply the most fantastic and effective machine man has built for removing dirt from your floors.”

“Before I can consider a purchase,” said April, “you understand, I have to see if it will clean my entire house.  It isn’t enough to know that it will only clean part of the house.”

“I have promised you a demonstration,” said the man.

“The entire house then,” said April.  “And we’ll follow.”

“That’s quite a demonstration,” said Jane.  Alfred Cockspittle squatted to remove the musket balls from the bag, stood again, and sat down, breathing rather heavily.  “Just let me get my wind,” he said.  

“I think we should drink to this demonstration,” said April.  “It’s going to be a hell of a demonstration, I can tell.”

“I could have a drink,” said Jane.

“Sure, why not,” said April.  “We’re not doing brain surgery.  And would you like a drink Mr. Alfred . . .”

“Cockspittle,” said Alfred Cockspittle.  “No thank you, I never drink during a demonstration.”

Carol went into the kitchen to pour the wine.  “Do you have any children, Mr. Cockspittle?” said Jane.

“You can call me Alfred Cockspittle,” he said.

“Do you have any children?”

“I have one child, but we are estranged.  She won’t have anything to do with me.”

“How old is she?”

“Nine.”

“So you’re divorced?”

“No, why would you say that?”

“I’m just wondering how your daughter manages not to have anything to do with you.”

“Oh she has her ways.  She sticks her hand in my face and yells ‘shut it!’ whenever I try to speak to her.”

April came back with the drinks.  “Now we’re ready to have a demonstration!” she announced.  “I say we start in this room.”

Alfred Cockspittle stood up and rolled his sleeves.  “You will see, I have already plugged the Succulum Sanitaire Perfecto into your outlet with no trouble at all; it doesn’t require a special outlet, it can even work with yours.  And now I flip the switch and do you hear that sound?” he said.  The vacuum made its warm-up humming sound.  “That’s the sound of 923 Airwatts at your disposal.”  Alfred Cockspittle continued talking as he proceeded to vacuum the floor, but neither April nor Jane listened to him.  April just thought of the fact that her floors were going to be cleaned soon without any effort expended on her part, and how proud she would be to tell her husband about it.  Jane noticed the sweat on his back, and how he appeared to be laboring to breathe and speak at once.  

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked him.

“Water, yes, sure, thank you,” he said.

“You know I don’t think this is your line of work,” said Jane.

“What are you talking about?  He’s doing a marvelous job,” said April.

“I don’t think he has stamina for the whole house,” said Jane.

“Nonsense.  That is nonsense.  The man is in the business of providing demonstrations, and this demonstration requires vacuuming a whole house.  It won’t be a complete demonstration otherwise.”

Jane went into the kitchen and got the man some water.  He gulped it down, little rivulets streaming down his chin.  “Have you ever thought of taking up walking or something?” said Jane.  

“I walk,” said the man.  “My daughter is always telling me to go for a walk.”

“I thought she wouldn’t speak to you,” said Jane.

“She tells me to go walk along the subway tracks.  And now I must complete the room,” he said.  “This vacuum, you see changed my life, and now I am devoted to completing vacuuming demonstrations for strangers in their homes.”

“How did it change your life?” said April.

“I was simply a derelict, glue-sniffing, no-good dilettante with mirrors on the toes of my shoes until I saw this very model in the window of a JC Penny.  And it stood there just like nothing could keep it from cleaning your damn house if you only gave it half a chance.  It was shiny.  It had gravitas.  And I could tell, here was a thing that had a purpose.  Here was an object made to perform, and it surely would perform until it outwore its usefulness, and not before.  And me, slovenly, stubble-faced, chronically masturbating me, could perhaps learn something from this object.  I went inside and asked for the manufacturer’s telephone number, which I called to offer my assistance in whatever capacity they thought I could manage, and I spoke to a Mr. Robert Schutte, Vice President, who told me that indeed I could help.  I could bring the product to households such as this one and demonstrate it for every day folks all throughout this metropolitan area.  And I told him, Mr. Robert Schutte, I told Mr. Vice President Robert Schutte—”

But he had run out of breath.  He sat panting on the floor next to the vacuum.  The job, for this room, was just about complete.  “I think he’s done with this room,” said Jane. 

April surveyed it.  “Very well,” she said.  “It looks like it’s a good vacuum, Mr., uh, Cockspittle.”

“Thank you,” said the man.  “I only wish you could tell that to my daughter.”

“She doesn’t speak to him,” said Jane.

“That simplifies things,” said April.  

“A vacuum,” he said, “is just the thing for a child, I would have thought.”  He unbuttoned his top button and loosened his tie.  “Forgive me,” he said, “but I’ve got to get less formal.”

Jane went to the kitchen for some more water and wine and while she was filling the glasses, she heard April and the salesman laughing it up.

She gave him the glass.  “What did I miss?” she said.

“Only the hight of wit,” said Cockspittle.

“The moment has passed,” said April.  “Onto the next room,” she said.  “We’re going to do John’s room.”

“Won’t there be toys?” said Jane.

“We can pick a few things up,” said April.  “His room is the filthiest.  Come on.”  So they followed her into April’s little boy’s room.  It was in fact filthy, with legos, He-Man figures, and G.I. Joes strewn throughout, the bed unmade.  A hamster sat in a small plastic cage filled with wood chips on the dresser.  It didn’t move.  “Come on,” said April, “let’s pick things up.”

“A fantastic truism regarding this device,” said Cockspittle, “is that one doesn’t ever really need to pick things up.  One just asks, ‘can it go in the bag?’ and if one answers, ‘why the heck not?’ in it goes and done you are.”

“You’re suggesting we vacuum up all my son’s crap?”

“In a word, yes.  Then we dump it into the toy bin.”

“With all the dirt from the carpet?  Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“Not the purpose of a demonstration.”

“The point of the demonstration is to show that the vacuum can clean my entire house,” said April.  “How can I learn whether it cleans my entire house unless it actually cleans my entire house, and doesn’t dump dirt in the toy bin?”

“Very well,” said the man.  He walked over and bent down over the toys.

“It’ll only take a second,” said April.  She put her wine glass on the dresser and picked up a toy.  “We’re doing it together.”  Jane likewise put her glass down and started picking up toys.  

Alfred Cockspittle made a sound as though he had just deadlifted a significant amount of weight, and was about to drop it on the floor, only it was Alfred Cockspittle who dropped onto his knees, with his forehead resting on the child’s bed.  “Are you ok?” said Jane.

“My back,” said Alfred Cockspittle.  “It seems that I have just thrown out my back.  Through no fault of the vacuum cleaner.”

“Yes, that’s clear,” said April.

“Has this happened before?” said Jane.

“Yes.”

“During a demonstration?” said April.

“Technically yes.”

“What do you normally do to make things better again?” said Jane.

“Get plenty of rest,” he said.

“Is there a position you should be in?”

“I think this position is best.”

April looked out the window.  “How long does it usually take?” she said.

“Mr. Robert Schutte,” he said, “entrusted me with vacuum cleaners.”  He tried to move.  He made a sound, again, like he was lifting a lot of weights.  “Oh,” he said, and settled back into the position.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol,” said April, “and a heating pad.”

“The vacuum could have handled this whole affair,” he said.  “It would have amazed you.”

“It does seem to be a very nice vacuum,” said Jane.

“But I didn’t see it do anything that my vacuum can’t do,” said April.

“What about the musket balls?” said Cockspittle.

“I don’t ever have to vacuum musket balls, so that application isn’t very practical, I’m afraid,” said April.

April went back into the kitchen.  Jane sat down on the bed and looked at Cockspittle.  It was already starting to get dark outside.  The room too, with only a desk lamp on, was dark.  Soon the children would come inside and Mr. Cockspittle would have to leave.  But how would he go?  It seemed to Jane that April had gotten herself into a mess and would soon have to explain to her husband why a salesman was crouched in their son’s bedroom.  “Maybe we can call your wife,” suggested Jane.  “Maybe she’ll know what to do.”

“No,” said Cockspittle, “I don’t have a wife.”

“She’s passed away?” said Jane.  “Who’s taking care of your daughter?”

“I don’t have a daughter.  I was just building rapport.”

“I think you should work on that,” said Jane.  “Maybe we can call your work then?”

“No,” he said, “they’d shitcan me.”

“Well I can’t say that you’ve done a very good job.  Maybe next time you shouldn’t offer to vacuum the whole house.”

April came back with the Tylenol, a glass of water, and an electric heating pad.  “Here,” she said.  “Can you sit up?”  But he couldn’t sit up.  He twisted his head as far as it would go, his hands still firmly on the ground, and Carol placed the Tylenol on his tongue and poured in the water.  It spilled down onto the floor.  He swallowed.  Then she plugged in the heating pad and positioned it on Cockspittle’s lower back.

“Is this a good position?” she asked.  He seemed to nod.  “Ok, stay like this and see if you get better.  In a little while, see if you can get up.  If not, in a half an hour, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Jane took her wine glass and followed April back to the kitchen, where April poured more wine.  “Some people,” said April, “do not respect boundaries.”