Uncle Slappy comes back for a visit.

I was sitting at my desk and heard a commotion out in the hallway. Figuring it was absolutely nothing, I went back to work. All of a sudden, the door swung open and I heard an inimitable voice shout out, "Mr. Big Schott, your Uncle Slappy is here."

Uncle Slappy, it seems had taken a last minute trip up from Boca to spend Succoth with us. "I thought I'd come up and visit you" he said.

"Uncle Slappy," I admonished, "I have to run to focus groups tonight."

"Watch your mouth, Big Schott."

"Focus groups, Uncle Slappy. Where consumers tell you what they think about your work."

"Well, suppose I come along to these focus groups, I want to take a look."

With that, Uncle Slappy and I jumped into a cab and went over to the focus group place.
What follows is Uncle Slappy's report.

"So Mr. Big Schott Mad Man takes me over to an fancy schmancy office building in mid-town to hear what some people have to say about his commercials. "Listen, I say to Mr. Big Schott, these people are some sort of experts?"

"No, Uncle Slappy. They're supposed to represent ordinary people like you and me."

"They don't know nothing special?"

"No, Uncle Slappy. We just want their impressions. Their opinions."

"What for? You're Mr. Big Schott, yes. You've got a million and a half awards, because you accomplished things. So you're listening to strangers?"

"Well, they're regular folks Uncle Slappy. We need to know what they think."

"Wait a sec. When a plumber fixes your terlet, he asks your opinion?"

I showed Uncle Slappy a room where, "the Mets were on the Philco." When I came out three hours later, he was asleep on the sofa, the Brach's candy all finished.