Mort Abramsky, owner and operator of the Mattress King Bed and Sofa stores of Southern Connecticut, pleaded to a sea of panic-stricken customers Tuesday to exercise patience and restraint as the demand for bed mattresses of every size, style, and brand skyrocketed due to a plummeting stock market and a scuttled $700 billion financial bailout package.
Said a perspiring, sleep-deprived Abramsky, regarding the recent surge of mattress sales, "Right now, people could care less about comfort and quality, which is our specialty here at Mattress King. Instead, they're looking for something that's thick and flexible and that can discretely lay on top of a box spring while forming a big, soft pocket around stacks upon stacks of cash."
By noon Tuesday, the most desirable mattresses had been sold for top-dollar, leaving many customers scrounging amidst the leftovers and rejects of the store's showroom.
Said Alana Simmons, a college professor from nearby Greenwich, "Most of us in this store right now are currently sleeping on waterbeds, futons, cots, or air mattresses - otherwise we wouldn't even be here, dealing with all the aggravation. And I knew it would be slim pickings, but it just seems like they're exploiting the situation at this point." Simmons then gestured disgustedly to a sign beside a balled-up pile of stained moving pads that read: "Portable mattresses: Two for $499!"
In Washington, both Democrats and Republicans called for tighter regulation of the $40 billion-a-year bedding industry. House Minority Leader John Boehner (R-Ohio), was particularly irritated by the lack of oversight. "First, it was the sub-prime lenders, then the crooked CEOs, and now these sleazy mattress retailers . What's happening in Connecticut right now is price-gouging at its worst, not supply and demand. Quite frankly, these people should be ashamed of themselves. And by "these people" I mean the dirty Jews."
For now, Burt Randall, a car wash attendant from Bridgeport, finds himself without a mattress at the most inopportune time. "Okay, fuck. So here's the thing: Right now, I'm sleepin' at my common law wife's house in Hartford, but I'm sharin' a fouton single with her cousin's half-sister in the den - on account that my common law still sleeps with her ex, which pisses me off more than a little to be perfectly honest."
When asked what advice he'd give to harried consumers facing the challenges of the current crises, Randall said, "Shit. Right now, my only advice is don't trust nothin' that bleeds for longer than three straight days and still lives."
In times of economic duress, bed mattresses have traditionally been utilized as makeshift storage recepticles for cash, to safeguard against the possible collapse of financial institutions. But why not just use a safe?
"Can't trust a safe," said Randall. "Too many numbers, too many chances to fail."
Abramsky received a glimmer of hope late Tuesday afternoon, however, as one of his suppliers assured him via e-mail that his Hartford store would receive a modest shipment of new mattresses by 9 A.M. the following day. Unfortunately, most customers remained implacable.
"We should have a fresh shipment of brand-new Sertas in by tomorrow morning," said an anxious Abramsky to Timothy Brookfield, a health services administrator from Fairfield.
"I don't want a Serta!" shouted Brookfield, gesturing wildly to a stack of festering used mattresses brought in from various tri-state-area budget motels. "I want one of those cheap, busted motel jiz sponges that you just sold to that couple in the Saab. Here's a thousand dollars, cash. Now gimme'!"
Owen Felton, night manager of The Cabana Motel in Hoboken, New Jersey, was surprised by the influx of business and gratified by the media coverage.
Said Felton, referring to his place of employment, "The last time this sperm dumpster got any press was when our city alderman got caught on tape smuggling four Mormon choir boys, an Ab-Roller, a Laotian circus dwarf, and a bucket of Peruvian hamsters into his suite."
Back in Hartford, at The Mattress King, anxious customers continued to snap up the tattered commodities.
"I'll give you two-thousand for the one with the family of ferrets burrowed into the side!" said one customer.
"I'll give you twenty-five-hundred for the one that looks like it was in Saw 2," shouted another.
Said Abramsky, "Sure, I love all the business, but things are getting out of hand in here. If those putzes in Washington don't get it together soon, I'm going to have a riot on my hands."
Comments