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ice on that chickie. Our friend - O Z Z I E - won't leave your territory if she baits him like that." Marcus's mental note was "Beverly. Avoid. Wide berth." By afternoon, the sales actually began. "They'll be scant in the residential areas today and tomorrow," Billy explained the sweeper who had been unseen all this time, and who was, right now, zig zagging the sale zone and a larger area beyond. "Between the two of us, there will be nothing for the Humor dude. He'll stay away if he gets no sales. If he shows his face in your territory call us IMMEDIATELY. You get a percentage of the sweep. It isn't as good as having it all to yourself, but it is better than splitting with Ozzie and his hard on," referring to the competition post Beverly. He saw Marcus's concern, "Don't worry, the turf sorts out pretty early. Then you just work it. Besides, there is a bonus. If you are the high seller of the day, you get Rum Banana!" "Rum Banana?" with a yuck flavored voice. "Don't say it that way. It's the flavor of the week," pausing, "Week after week." "Big deal." Marcus made a screwed up face. "You get the flavor of the week for free. It is pure profit. Actually, any flavor that died and needs to be moved out costs us in refrigeration. It takes a sales push to unload it. Those football players and track runners, are hot and thirsty, and are not discerning gourmets. They'll eat frozen shit on a stick. It might just as well be your shit on your stick. Just yell into their faces with uncontrolled enthusiasm ' TODAY WE HAVE RUM BANANA! - YESSSSS!' and watch them beg for it. And they'll enjoy it. Good for them, good for you, good for us. We're up to our ears in it. Nobody wants it. Nobody gets hurt."