Unreal Estates
Old Chinese Proverb: It is easier to escape the jaws of a crocodile than the

clutches of a real estate agent
*
While driving around one Sunday afternoon, my wife and I saw a sign that read: "Open House1 to 4 P.M." Of course, we knew we weren't going to buy a new house. In the first place, we couldn't afford one. And we couldn't afford one in the second or third place. Still, there was no harm in looking.

"Jessica UltraTonsil, Tinsel and Tactile Real Estate," said the blonde, coiffured agent. She seemed all business- ball point pen behind her ear, calculator in one hand, laptop computer in the other, cell phone in her pocket, digital camera around her neck and a copy of the Wall Street Journal in her shoe.
"Let me guess," she said with an knowing smile. "You're old, infirm, doddering, slightly senile. Your children are gone. Your present house is too large for you. You want to downsize. So relax! I can sell your house in the next hour and get you a fifty year mortgage on this one. Remember: interest rates will never be lower."
"I don't think you understand, Ms. Ultra," I said.. "We're just looking"
"Of course," she replied. "You need time to think-say about half an hour. And when would be a convenient time for the closing?"
When her back was turned, my wife and I escaped and drove away hastily. "She was awfully persistent," I told my wife. "I hope she won't bother us."
"I suspect she will " my wife replied. "She took down our license number."
By the time we reached home, we saw her car in our driveway. When we entered the house, we found her at work in our kitchen. "Hi," she said. "Hope you like Hungarian goulash. While you're eating, I'll tell you about this darling little French cottage in Voyeur Villa. Remember: interest rates will never be lower."
Next morning, as I stepped outdoors to get the newspaper, she emerged from behind a bush. "I've circled some interesting ads," she said, handing me the paper. "I'll tell you about them as you eat breakfast. Do you prefer your eggs light or medium?"
By the time I arrived at work, I was a nervous wreck. I entered my office stealthilyand sure enough, there she was, sitting at my desk. "I wanted to tell you about this cute little bungalow in Moldering Meadows," she said. "It has"
"Look, Ms. Ultra," I muttered, my voice trembling, "I don't need"
"Call me Jessica," she said. "And look at this Dutch Colonial with cathedral ceiling, French windows and Olympic size bath tub. Just the thing for two darling old biddies like you and your wife."
When I reached home that evening, I rushed in the house and bolted the door behind me. "That agent is driving me mad," I told my wife. "If she knocks at the door, pretend you're the maid and say we've gone to Europe."
But it was too late! The living room window flew open and Ms. Ultra's head appeared. "How about a condominium in Beaver Dam Domain?" she asked. "Or a townhouse in Turtle Towers? Interest rates"
I had had enough. I could feel my sanity going. In desperation, I inquired among the city's criminal elements and located a "hit" man named Eddie the Eradicator. I hired him for $10,000. Next day my phone rang. "Hi," said a familiar voice. "Thanks for sending me that new client, Eddie the Eradicator. Would you be interested in a condominium next to the one he bought? Interest rates will never be lower"

Learn more about this author, Seaborn Varnado.
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