DIRECTION: Wrote “Straight Up Ray-Ban” headline for in-store promotion of Ray-Ban’s new authentic prescription lenses.
CLIENT: Ray-Ban
AGENCY: Marcel Paris
COPYWRITER: Fulford Creative
Patching Up Jack
Patching Up Jack
By J. Pete Fulford
Poor Jack was lying there in chunks. His head was split open and seeds and guts spewed forth as if a steel boot bludgeoned him. I’m sure that’s what happened. Drunken assholes. Luckily, I was carrying a roll of black duct tape. So I decided to patch him back together.
But first, I ran back home and grabbed an industrial stapler and a candle. It wasn’t easy patching up Jack. Some of his head was ground into the pavement and other bits and pieces were so beyond repair that I had to use alternate parts to fix him. I found the leg of an old discarded chair, and that worked perfectly for his spine. I used an empty pack of Marlboro Reds as his right ear. For extra support around the cracks, I carefully stapled together his wounds. The pulp and goop that got on my hands didn’t bother me. The smell was difficult to stomach, but I quickly got used to it. It’s funny how when you’re doing something good for someone (or some thing), things like putrid smells don’t bother you so much.
I did what I could, and after a few minutes, I pieced back him back together. He didn’t look pretty, but was at least recognizable again. The strips of black tape covered most of his head, and the staples, I’ll admit, were more for effect than anything else. Through all the repairs, I was very careful about keeping his eyes and smile in tact. When I was done, I lit the candle and set in inside. The flame flickered, and his brutal face once again showed a huge toothy grin, and his beautiful eyes could once again see the world.
“Hey thanks,” Jack said.
“Oh no problem Jack.”
“Honestly, how do I look?”
“Um…you look great. Really you look just like new.”
“Bullshit. Where’s a mirror? I wanna see myself.”
I couldn’t lie to Jack.
“You don’t wanna see yourself Jack.”
“Hmmm, well, hey at least I can talk huh. Nice work on the jaw.”
“Oh thanks. Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you could talk or not, but I’m glad you can.”
“Yep. It just feels good to make noises ya know? Dooo deeeee ddooo deeee rarrrr rarrrrrrrr woooooooooo…”
“Talk away Jack,” I said, tears bubbling in my eyes.
“Wait, this reminds me of…that scary movie…uh…Frankenstein. I should grunt and moan more. I am talking too clearly for a…MONSTER.”
“It’s ALIIIEEEEEEVVVVEEEE,” I yelled holding out my arms and looking to the sky.
We both laughed—man and pumpkin sharing a moment.
“HA HA HA HA, ouch ouch. It hurts to lau…”
As Jack was laughing, his jaw broke off and fell to the pavement. It was probably a good thing, because right then the pack of Marlboro Reds caught fire. Soon he was a ball of flames. I was glad his jaw fell off a moment before. Hearing Jack screaming in agony would’ve scarred me for life.
I ran home as fast as I could, filled up a bucket with water, and ran back out to Jack. I was about to douse him with water when he very slowly and subtly shook his head. There was a peace in his eyes. It was as if he just wanted one more chance to burn as brightly as he could.
