The next set of commercials, which I affectionately call "The Ghoul Trilogy," feature a character by that same name. Not bothering to inform us of who this character is, Marc has The Ghoul show up in his commercials to show the viewer that escape from Norton Furniture is impossible.
Yes, Ghoul, play those little games all you want, but it won't change the fact that Marc Norton gave you a partial lobotomy with a knitting needle and is slowly poisoning you as you tend to what he calls "the soul garden." From my estimate, it looks like The Ghoul was either a homeless person or FM radio DJ (same thing) who wandered into Marc's store looking for a free meal. What he got was a life of indentured servitude to a man doing Satan's work in black V-neck T-shirt. The fact that he draws precious children into the store is the only reason Marc keeps The Ghoul alive... As if you could call that living.
The Ghoul is back, and this time he wants him some ponytail! The source of Marc's power, his ponytail cannot be severed by gardening shears alone. Only an enchanted diamond bonesaw could cleave Marc Norton from the lock that brings him his omnipotent power. But The Ghoul doesn't know this. All he hopes is that separating Marc from his ponytail will afford him some dignity, and perhaps something to rest his head on when he sleeps in Norton Furniture's world-famous "broken glass pit of blood and shame." The slow motion at the end is symbolic of The Ghoul's eternal torment; he cannot take his own life, or that of his master. Never before has so much desperation been distilled into such a small moment, beautiful in its abject tragedy.
I've waited this long to point out the fact that the only thing Marc guarantees is his commercial in that his name is Marc. But even this is a lie. No mortal dares speak the true name of Marc Norton.
This commercial, the final episode of "The Ghoul Trilogy," features the Prince to Marc Norton's King of Darkness. He is known to visit orphanges at night and feast on babies with poor credit. His name is unknown, but he takes the form of a large frog. Do not be drawn in by his goofy smile and thousand-yard stare; locking eyes with the gaze of this misshapen creature can drive most men to madness. The Ghoul, thinking he has one-upped both his master and second-in-command, assumes he has them both. But Marc Norton knows that The Ghoul lacks the necessary brain matter and can do nothing but excitedly slash at the air while losing control of his bowels. Ashamed, Marc can do nothing but shamble off-screen as if his bones are made of wicker -- which was the exact deal he made with dark forces to receive his tremendous power!
This final commercial for Norton Furniture shows what can only be a bleak future for the already bleak state of Ohio. Having been made Governor, Marc now uses his shadow magic to bring character actors from the 1930s to the future just to execute them. No one knows why he does this, but then again, no one dares question the methods of Marc Norton. He now decides who lives and who dies. And, in an act of cruelty, he shows up on the last days of condemned criminals' lives to make them think that his mighty slouch might show them compassion. Yet they still die. Does Marc show any remorse? You may believe he is covering his face out of shame in the end, but in reality he's hiding a smile more wicked than all the heavy metal covers and van murals in the world combined. Things do not look good for Ohio, my friends. Pray for me as I try to cross the border into the promised land, Indiana.
Indiana as a safe haven? Truly, this is hell on earth.
Hows about you, me, and five uncomfortable minutes in my basement apartment next to the dusty Christmas tree that's still up from my last visit with my estranged children.
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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