Mr. and Mrs. Frump were sitting in their hovel, not doing much of anything, when Mrs. Frump was hit with the urge to go shopping. "We haven't bought anything new for the home in four years," she groused.
"Three years," Mr. Frump corrected her.
"I'm sure it was four years," Mrs. Frump insisted.
"We got the broken table lamp three years ago last month," Mr. Frump told her.
"Yeah, but we didn't buy it," Mrs. Frump reminded him. "You stole it out of a trash bin."
"Oh, yeah," Mr. Frump graciously conceded the point. A few minutes later, he asked: "So, where do you wanna go?"
"Not the corner grocery," Mrs. Frump said. "He gives me the creeps, always looking at my bags with suspicion..."
A few minutes after that, Mr. Frump suggested: "How about ARMX 85? It's just down the street a ways, and they're certain to have loads of bargains."
"They wouldn't let us!" Mrs. Frump shrieked.
"Why not?" Mr. Frump replied. "We're not Commies, now, are we?"
So, shopping bags in hand, they went. Once inside (for, as good Canadian citizens, they could not be denied access), they were amazed at the profusion of sights and sounds which greeted them. "It's just like an Arab market!" Mrs. Frump joyfully shouted.
"No Arab market ever had stuff like this," Mr. Frump, who was a bit of a grump, complained, pointing to a screen on which a computer-simulated nuclear explosion was taking place in slow motion.
As the pair got further into the building, they were each handed a thick catalog with advertising for all the latest weapons of mass destruction. "Ooh," Mrs. Frump cooed, "it's just like a Consumer's!"
Mr. Frump was about to protest that the prices were in no way comparable when something caught Mrs. Frump's eye and, with a squeal of delight, she led him by the arm to a display of helicopters.
"Look, dear," Mrs. Frump said of the centrepiece, a full-sized chopper. "It's just like on TV!"
"Just like on TV?" the salesman, walking over to them, responded. "Just like on TV? My dear lady! Our helicopter is better than anything you'll find on TV!"
"What does it do?" Mrs. Frump asked, delicately stroking the metal exterior of the machine.
"This helicopter," the salesman, gearing up for his best pitch, began, "is equipped with infrared radar tracking systems, and has air to air and air to ground missile capability. On-board computers help with the navigation and missile trajectory calculations, and," the man winked slyly, "can even play chess. This helicopter is perfect for an urban police force or even a small brush war."
"I love it!" Mrs. Frump exclaimed.
"What's its airspeed?" asked Mr. Frump, unconvinced.
The salesman smiled. "Faster than the wind," he answered. "Faster than a lover's sigh. And, with the right pilot, it can be even faster than that."
Mr. Frump dragged Mrs. Frump away, muttering something about the salesman being: "Too darned elusive about the darned thing's darned airspeed."
After several hours of browsing, it became apparent that the Frumps could not agree on anything. Choice of missile was an especially contentious issue: Mr. Frump wanted something practical, with a high kill ration and low cost; Mrs. Frump was interested in the older, less proficient models because they had cuter tail fins.
Eventually, the pair came upon the CF-18 fighter. Mr. Frump was impressed by the statistics compiled on the fighter in the catalog, while Mrs. Frump liked the colour.
"Excuse me," Mr. Frump asked one of the salesmen milling about the plane, "but, how much does one of these things cost?"
"Pardon me?" the salesman asked. Mr. Frump repeated his question. "You'll have to excuse me," the salesman, smiling, told the couple, "but, I'm not used to dealing with anybody under the rank of a two-star General. The CF-18, one of the best fighter planes ever assembled, costs $30 million."
Mr. and Mrs. Frump looked at each other, dismayed.
"That includes wrapping," the salesman hastened to add.
"Well have to give it some thought," Mr. Frump said. When he and Mrs. Frump were alone, he said, "Well, Missus, I like the plane, but I think it's a wee bit expensive..."
"But, it's just the perfect thing to protect our home!" Mrs. Frump argued. "Are you sure we can't afford it?"
"You heard the man," Mr. Frump stated. "The plane costs $30 million, and we've only got three dollars and 17 cents in spare change in the mattress..."
"Couldn't we borrow the rest?" Mrs. Frump suggested. "Governments do it all the time."
"Oh, sure," Mr. Frump sarcastically replied, "and end up eating Alpo for the next 20 years! You know we've always wanted better things than that!"
In the end, Mr. and Mrs. Frump bought a pair of Stinger missiles just so they wouldn't leave empty-handed. But, it had been a wonderful afternoon, they had met a lot of very friendly people, and neither of them thought the trip a waste.
"Every citizen should educate himself about our nation's defense," Mr. Frump said, and immediately fell asleep.
"'Night all," Mrs. Frump said, and turned out the light.
