This past Tuesday Goodwill Industries of Lower South Carolina held what they referred to as a “Blessing Ceremony” for its brand new fleet of trucks. Attendees were treated to a live music performance by local favorite Ivan Broadassovich and his Dancing Girlfriend in a Bear Suit. Palmetto Goodwill’s new mascot Bongo Monkey Turd joined in the fun and, as usual, helped to fill out the sound with some fine bongo riffs.
CEO Robert Smith laid down the beat on his turntable and rapped for the small, enthusiastic crowd. Smith, who raps under the moniker, Marse Cracker (aka Hip Hop Honky), is a master of neo-ghetto colloquialisms.
Before company spokesperson Ella Salmon announced the blowing of the sacred ram’s horn by local religious leaders, she whipped off her clothes, grabbed a can of dark red aerosol paint, and tagged an eight-foot wide pentagram on the parking lot. She then lay face-up and prostrate on the ground. Her arms and legs jerked, scissor-like, in what appeared to be a furious attempt to create an asphalt angel.
Ella hollered, “BLOW THE SACRED HORN!” and muttered, “Don’t forget to try the mushroom hors d’oeuvres!” She then started babbling incoherently in a bizarre, unknown dialect that incorporated harsh clicking sounds, deep-throated guttural moans, and an occasional ear splitting burp. I suspect that she was expressing thankful and effusive praise for the folks who sign her paycheck.
When it comes to showmanship, nobody does it like Goodwill Industries! Even the guys in the ambulance crew who eventually hustled Ella away took a break to enjoy the enticing festivities.
PETA officials registered a complaint, however, concerning the part of the ceremony where a goat was sacrificed on a makeshift altar. “This is barbaric,” said a PETA representative who declined to be identified. “I know that sacrificial goats have long been an undercurrent of Lowcountry religious institutions but it is time to put a stop to this horrible practice. Goodwill Industries should have know better and I think the consuming public needs to register its disgust by withholding the contents of their purses, wallets, and penny loafers until a full apology is proffered.”
Fighting back tears as she munched, rabbit-like, on a stalk of organic celery, the PETA rep also stated that she would urge Goodwill Company executives to enroll in some animal sensitivity sessions to avoid a repeat of the Goat Murder Fiasco.
Another rather disturbing scene occurred when a deranged drunk wearing a mustard costume wandered into the store. He appeared harmless at first but, when he stepped behind the counter and tried to ring up a customer’s rather large purchase of ladies undergarments, Bongo Monkey Turd (who also acts as a bouncer at these events) applied some angry monkey whip-ass on the intruder.
Goodwill CEO, Robert Smith, used this opportunity to announce the selection of a new board member: The Dark Lord of the Underworld. Acknowledging that the Prince of Darkness has long held an important advisory role in the organization, Mr. Smith said that it was time to honor that ongoing commitment by formalizing GILSC’s relationship with the Master of Lies.
The Wicked One, in turn, recognized Mr. Smith’s dedication to pure evil by elevating him to the position of “Exalted Wazoo” of the Sharks of St. Simony, a secret society of movers, shakers, and other silly farts who, according to rumor, spend most of their together time jumping around in fur-lined jock straps while tossing croaker sacks full of puppies into tidal creeks.
Mr. Smith also took advantage of this festive occasion to present the employee of the year award to Harold Hosenfeffer (affectionately know as Nutsack amongst his friends and coworkers). Harold received neither a cash award nor a raise but he did receive a bisque wall hanging featuring the always smiling visage of the Goodwill CEO. In a short acceptance speech Harold said that he was grateful for the award but, because his income was so low, he no place to hang it as he lives in a cardboard box next to the railroad tracks off of Spruill Avenue in North Charleston. “I guess I can carry it with me on the bus to and from work so it won’t get stolen,” said Harold. “Anyway, it’s the thought that counts.”
Despite the goat incident, however, the invited dignitaries as well as bystanders seemed to have a darn good time. There was plenty of Kool Aid and Little Debbie Cakes for all and a rather obese but quite competent Elvis impersonator delighted the small but enthusiastic crowd.