Tag Archives: butler

I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse

I’m going to make you offer you can’t refuse. How about, unlimited Internet and cable, and I’m talking all of the good channels – all of them – for only ten bucks a month. How’s that sound, pretty good right? Try to refuse it. Seriously, just try. There you go, I just made you an offer you can’t refuse.

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Not enough? I’m going to make you another offer you can’t refuse. Here it is: A brand new car, for only two hundred dollars cash. It doesn’t matter what make of model it is. It’s a brand new car. And I’m not even done yet. You get free gas for as long as you own the vehicle, and I’ll cover the first month’s insurance. That’s a good deal right? Almost too good to refuse? No, exactly too good to refuse. You can’t refuse it.

I can make offers you can’t refuse all day long. I’ll come over and clean your whole house for free. Done. You can’t refuse it. Or how about, I’ll wait outside your house all day and make sure that nobody parks too close to your driveway. You know, like every once in a while you’ll get home and some knucklehead will be just a little too close? And so you have to back in all extra slow, making sure not to smack this dummy’s bumper on the way in? I’ll stand outside all day and just keep an eye on things.

Or, how about I’ll buy you some free ice cream. I’ll buy free ice cream for all of your family and friends. Whenever you want. I’ll be like your personal on-call free ice cream delivery man, from wherever you want. Just text me, you don’t even have to call me. And if it’s really late, I’ll just buy a whole bunch of stuff at a twenty-four hour grocery store and I’ll make you like a really cool looking sundae, hot fudge from scratch, hand-whipped cream, whatever. And if you’re lactose intolerant, don’t worry, sorbet is fine, I’m not going to be a stickler here.

You can’t refuse that offer. You can’t refuse any of my offers. I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. When your relatives come in from out of town, I’ll put on a tux and pretend to be your live-in butler. I’ll do everything a real live-in butler would do. No, I’ll do even more, whatever they say. And whoever’s visiting you is going to be like, wow, you can afford a live-in butler? You must be doing pretty well for yourself. And I’ll be like fanning them as they watch TV, making them snacks in the middle of the night, fluffing their pillows, everything. And I’m going to make them offers that they can’t refuse.

I’ll insist on taking your houseguests around town while you’re at work. They want to go to all the cheesy tourist spots that you’d prefer to avoid? I’m your guy. Statue of Liberty, right this way folks. And of course, I won’t accept any tips. “It’s all part of the job,” I’ll say with my hands behind my back. Of course, you don’t have to pay me anything, that’s the whole point, me making you an offer that you cannot refuse.

I’ll give you my dead Italian grandma’s secret meatball recipe. And trust me, this is something you do not want to refuse. Actually, you don’t really have a choice. I mean, you do, technically, but you can’t refuse it, not this, not my grandma’s meatballs. And it really is a secret recipe. Right before she died, we all thought that she was going to make the recipe public, but she did the opposite. She called all of us into the room, the few trusted grandkids that she’d passed the recipe along to, and she was like, “Keep it secret. Keep it secret for me. It’s gotta stay in the family. You have to swear!” And we all swore, all of us, even me. And then she died.

But I’ll tell you right now. How can you refuse an offer like that? And I’m not exaggerating, these are the best meatballs you’ll ever have in your life. Here’s the recipe: a pound of ground beef, one egg, breadcrumbs, olive oil, reggiano cheese, chopped basil, chopped parsley, chopped garlic, and one chopped onion. Salt and pepper to taste. Put all the ingredients in a bowl, mix it all together with your hands, and then make the meatballs. Put them on a foil-lined tray and cook for twenty minutes at three-fifty. Finish them up in a pot of simmering tomato sauce. Dee lishous. You cannot refuse these meatballs. You cannot refuse this offer.