The Tupperware Salesman

The man stared out the window onto the dimly lit street outside. The window belonged to a shop. Above the window, a sign hung, clinging to rusty hinges in stagnate air. The sign read: “Horatio’s Trendy Tupperware. If you’re looking for handy plastic containers for any occasion, we’ve got you covered!” As one might have guessed, the man in the window was Horatio. He continued to look out onto the world outside his shop with a kind of… resigned look in his eyes.

Horatio Claude Withington had been in the Tupperware business longer than he could remember. He came from a long line of Withington’s, all Tupperware salesmen and he had never even thought of any other line of work. People say that the Withington’s were selling their Tupperware back in the age of dinosaurs. No one thinks to ask what a giant lizard could possibly want with multi coloured plastic bowls and such, but people say things like that all the time.

‘Horatio’s Trendy Tupperware’ was not doing very well. In fact, he was almost ready to declare bankruptcy. Previous Withington’s had relied on customer’s buying their Tupperware over the phone, but that didn’t work anymore. So Horatio had set up a small shop, in hope that he could pull his flailing business back from the brink. It didn’t work. No one bothered with dinky little shops anymore; everyone just went to the mega-crazy-super-mall-marts, or whatever they’re called now. Horatio had even decided to grasp the fruits of the future and made an online shop. It flopped too. The truth was, and Horatio was now beginning to see it, that Tupperware just wasn’t classy anymore.

Back in the golden age of Tupperware salesmanship, having your very own set of FridgeSmart, PrimaKlima or if you were really posh, the UltraPro line, was a symbol of wealth and intelligence. People were seen wearing their Tupperware upon their breasts, as medals, to show others how much richer, and clever, they were. Nowadays, Tupperware is only seen fit for the poor and desperate.

“I have a very particular… occasion”
Horatio was snapped of his reverie and spun around to face the source of the voice. A smartly dressed man holding a briefcase was standing in his shop.
“What? Can I help you?” Horatio stuttered, unsure of the man that had seemingly appeared inside his shop with a sound.
“Your sign. Out front.” The man spoke in a monotone, with frequent pauses, as if he was stopping to think of his next line.
“I don’t understand, sir.” Horatio’s self defence mechanism kicked in. “Can I interest you in a set of our Heat 'N Eat line?”
“No. I do not think that will be necessary.” Horatio opened his mouth to try a different angle, but the man held up his hand, silencing him.
“Your sign states that you cover all occasions.”
“Uh, yes sir. That is correct. Parties, picnics, ba-” The man cut him off.
“Do you stock a container specifically design to contain a human head?”
“…Are you sure the Heat 'N Eat wasn’t what you were looking for?”
Horatio regretted saying that instantly.
What a silly thing to say! A classy man like this would never use a microwave.
“May I ask whose head, in particular, you will be containing? If it’s no trouble.” Horatio tended to get very polite when he was frightened.
Please not mine please not mine please not mine.
“It will be the head of the man you will kill tonight”
Oh, well that’s fine then.
“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t sell any lines of Tupperware products that cater to that that specific purpose. I’ll be sure to notify someone right away.”
“Oh. Shame.” The man seemed genuinely disappointed. But he quickly composed himself and became more serious than he was before, if that was possible. He pulled a silenced pistol and a common garden saw from his jacket and placed them on the table in front of him. He then spoke “Mr. Withington, I come to you today with an ultimatum. I want you to kill a man for me, and bring me his head.”
“Sir, please remove yourself from my shop.” Usually, Horatio would count everyone that came into his shop as a blessing, but this had gone far enough.
“Your reward for doing so will be ten million dollars.”
Or had it?
“I believe that is enough to live comfortably for all your days to come.”
I can’t be seriously considering this? Can I?
“I believe it is a fine deal. Would you not agree, Mr. Withington?”
Horatio finally spoke. “But if it’s an ultimatum, where’s the threat?”
“Mr. Withington, you have been struggling with your business for forty years. You have no friends, no family and you spend every day trying to sell plastic bowls to people with no money, telling yourself that things will get better. Spending the rest of your life like this is the threat, Mr. Withington.”
But why me?
“But why me?”
“Why not?” The man obviously thought it was a stupid question.
A pause.
“The choice is all yours to make. You can be Horatio-” The man gestured to the Tupperware all around him. ”Or Mr. Withington-“ He placed his briefcase on the table and opened it, revealing the money that lay inside.
A pause.
“No one will miss him. Just another man. Completely forgettable.”
A pause.

Mr. Withington walked out of his shop.