The Frightening Admission of Mr. Prosit [Part 1 of 3]
Comments: 0 - Date: October 9th, 2006 - Categories: Prose
Mr. Edward Prosit:
Greetings from my current home, the city of brotherly love. I hope this letter finds you well; indeed, I hope this letter finds you at all. It has been a number of years since we last spoke—entirely too long of a span, I assure you. And even though we have not been in personal communication, I trust you would have notified me if you had moved. In this regard, I believe this private address to be current.
I’m writing you as a friend of many years, but also as a matter of official business. As you may have heard in the papers, or by word of mouth, I have recently been appointed as an associate professor at the University of Huntington in Philadelphia, in the field of Health and Science. In this capacity I have been assisting local clinics in their endeavors to treat a particular kind of illness, specifically, that of habit-forming substances.
Recently we have had a number of peculiar cases to which I would draw your attention. On a damp and gray Saturday morning the clinic received a visit from an older woman whose name is not pertinent. She told of her husband who had been feeling ill as of late, some days not even aspiring to rise from bed. She had read in the paper a legitimate article—not an advertisement as one might assume—claiming the development of some miracle elixer. Naturally this does not raise the eyebrows of anyone with half an intellect, as the number of snake oil salesmen has risen precipitously; although the fact that so many still peddle their wares would indicate that many less-than-half intellects continue to walk among us.
I later did research into the article, finding it to have been published as an opinion of one who had taken this particular substance: hardly an unbiased account. I ignored the article as any sensible man would do, as I believe the author paid a princely sum in order that his column might be accepted as a bona fide article and published as such, rather than under the heading of advertisement. If this is the way papers shall operate their business in the future, the outlook of the industry is grim, indeed. However, this is beside my point.
The woman, having purchased a stock of the stuff, told her husband about its fantastic properties and he proceeded to take it religiously. Curiously, he recovered.
The reason for the woman’s visit to the clinic that deary day was that her husband had not only recovered, but grew violent. In their fifty-one years of marriage, he had never once laid a hand upon her, but at all times remained chivilrous. However, after his recovery, he demanded more of the drink, stating that without it he would surely perish. The woman sought to procure a supply forthwith, but in the mean-time, her husband did alternately beat her or cower, as a frightened dog might, in the corner of the cellar.
Once the supply arrived, the man calmed, but told stories of hallucinations, visits from demons and other tall tales—not dissimilar from what was described in the newspaper. The difference being, the article published described encounters with heavenly hosts whereas this man met with their opposite. For now, I shall refrain from commenting on what this may tell us regarding either man’s spiritual condition.
Subsequently, the woman, fearing for her husband’s well-being—to say nothing of her own—asked that he be admitted to the hospital. In turn, they contacted me, rightly supposing that I may be professionaly interested in the case, not in the least because the claims put forth in the paper appeared to hold true.
Upon questioning the woman I learned that she, too, had begun to take the substance. It started when she required a remedy for something as simple as an upset stomach and, having no other medications in the house, she elected to take some of what her husband had used. Immediately her stomach cleared and within a few hours time, she claimed to have been visited by an angel. Again, I have no comment on this particular event.
Citing professional interest, I asked if I could obtain a bottle of the substance from her for study. At the thought of relinquishing even a drop, she visibly paled and began to shake, and suggested that it was completely out of the question; I would need to purchase my own. After a bit of prodding, she agreed to supply me with an empty bottle, with the label intact.
No doubt by now you understand my reasons for writing. I cannot express enough my surprise when I had an empty bottle in my hand, only to see this so-called “Ambrosia Moderne” was being manufactured by the Prosit Bottling Co. Ltd. All the years I’ve known you, Edward, you have been the epitome of honesty in business, so it is with shock and bemusement that I find you are manufacturing a substance which is decidedly unhealthy in mind if not body.
Whilst writing this letter, I have just been interrupted by another patient exhibiting the same symptoms. He, too, has been partaking of your Ambrosia, and before the symptoms had made themselves manifest in his mind, provided it also to his family. I write with increased urgency.
The purpose of this letter to you is twofold. Firstly, perhaps you do not realize to what extent your product has created hardship in the lives of those who drink it. Certainly you can be aware that the nerves are more easily rattled in the busy life of the city; maybe it is this small detail which makes the substance exhibit strange behaviours which may not be observed when taken in conjunction with the comparitively calm life of the countryside wherest you reside.
Secondly, there has always existed a struggle between the study of health for benefit of the populace versus government monies to fund these studies. I am backed by the university in some respects, however this problem is outside their accepted fields of research, and though I do not agree with them in this, it is their wont. I humbly ask of you a few sample bottles of your “Ambrosia Moderne” that it might be analyzed and more learned regarding its nature. Furthermore, might I be so bold as to suggest you limit its distribution until such a time when its effects can be more fully understood? As a businessman, I realize some profit is in order, however, in this case, I think the well-being of your fellow man trumps a few extra dollars in your pockets.
I eagerly await your reply, as I have just spoken to another with similar symptoms. The spread of the hallucinations is more drastic than I first anticipated, and I fear the situation may quickly become dire.
There is now a small line outside my office, requiring my immediate attentions. Please calm my anxieties with a rapid reply.
Regards,
Thaddeus Tucker, M.D.
Dr. Tucker,
I agree with you that it has been entirely too long since our last correspondence. I may perchance a trip to your area later this year whereupon we should make plans to meet. If this is agreeable, we will be in touch.
As for myself, and my family, we have no complaints. Business has been better than I have ever seen it, even in my father’s day. At the insistence of my business partner, Willis T. Smedly, of whom you have no acquaintence to my knowledge, we have attempted to market the Ambrosia into the the nearest major city, Philadelphia. After having read the article you mentioned, I believed it to be a satire of Swiftian proportions, but Mr. Smedly encouraged me, saying, no publicity is bad publicity, and so we let the paper do our marketing.
I must honestly admit that when I first read your letter, I believed it to be something of a joke. But coincidentally, it arrived mere hours following the news of my Ambrosia’s popularity, despite—or perhaps because of—the writings in the paper. It astounds me that something of this magnitude could happen as we have seen no effects even remotely like this in our locale where I have been selling the Ambrosia on a rather small scale. Indeed, I had considered eliminating the product entirely due to falling demand, and it was only at the insistence of Mr. Smedly, as I said, that we attempted to push into more lucrative environs.
The happenings of which you speak are baffling, to say the least, but they cannot be the result of my product. The demand has been sensational, to the point where we cancelled other profitable, yet low-volume products in order to convert space to the making of Ambrosia Moderne. If I had but a single bottle to spare, I would give it in the name of science—but I have even stopped selling it at the local five and dime, as your fellow denizens are willing to pay nearly twice the price.
But even if I were to send you a sample, you would find nothing of interest, I assure you. While I do keep my methods and ingredients secret due to intense competition within the bottling industry, there is absolutely nothing in my Ambrosia to cause the effects you describe.
In addition, there is no way for the supply to be tampered with enroute, as the drink is packaged in the factory. We have licensed, at great expense, a patent for a tamper-proof seal of recent invention, and any attempt to violate our product would surely be discovered.
I can only suggest that what you observe is a coincidence with no pertinent connection: the rise in popularity of my product happens to be simultaneous with the rise in a new, heretofore undiscovered illness. Any connection between the two is surely chance.
Respectfully,
Edward Prosit
President, Prosit Bottling Co. Inc.
[To be continued on Wednesday…]
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