How I Broke This, Ep. 8: Hardly Working Lemonade Stand (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love DT)

GUY RAZZ: I’m Guy Razz, host of How I Broke This. Welcome to my narrative journey about business ineptitude and the failed leaders who failed to learn from their failures. Listen as my guests reveal what led to their crushed entrepreneurial spirits. Today’s guest is Hash Benedict, former president of Hardly Working Lemonade stand. He’s wearing a PAN FRY THE POOR T-shirt and is currently unemployed.

HASH: Not unemployed, Guy. I’m between jobs. BIG jobs. The BIGGEST jobs, actually.

GUY: Wasn’t the cost of your MAKE AMERICA GRATE AGAIN lemonade a bit excessive at $59.99 per three-ounce cup?

HASH: Between you and me, I had no idea those lemon tariffs would end up biting my ass.

GUY: Why lemonade?

HASH: It’s personal. The greatest moment in my life was when Papa commissioned HASBRO to create a special edition G.I. Joe action figure in my image.

GUY: Ah, yes. The infamous G.I. Joe Bone Spurs model. But wasn’t that an inaction figure?

HASH: It wasn’t so much what Papa gave me but what he said when he surprised me with it. He said, “Vladimir … I mean, Hash … Son … when life gives you lemonade, make lemons.” It became my credo.

GUY: Isn’t it the other way around … “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade?” I’ll Google to verify.

HASH: I thought we agreed no fact-checking. What is this?—Meet The Mess? See what I did there? Mess. Press. I’m a word weaver. Speaking of weave, have you considered getting a hair weave? You’re as bald as a baboon’s butt. From now on, you’re Chrome Dome. My zombie worms love it when I kick into what they call the “full bully.” Add a little racial resentment, ethnic enmity, and endorse the biggest selling book of all time, and I’m in like Flint.

GUY: Why did you name your stand Hardly Working Lemonade?

HASH: Papa always told me if I “hardly worked,” I could become a pop-up President one day.

GUY: Didn’t he mean “work hard”?

HASH: Your questions are so lame that even Jesus can’t make them walk again. Maybe I should start a podcast, just interview myself and ask way better questions. Call it The Punch Down.

GUY: Listeners, please pardon the ensuing awkward silence—

HASH: Why are you pausing?—to fact-check something I said? No fact-checking for the next four years—or forever if all goes to plan.

GUY: No, I’m pausing to scrape dog-doo off my flip-flop. That’s the downside to remote podcasts. You really must watch your step, especially when things get this deep.

HASH: Dog-doo? That’s impossible. All pets have vanished since our local animal shelter became an all-you-can-eat buffet.

GUY: There’s no truth—

HASH: It’s fact.

GUY: Based on?

HASH: A true story I made up.

GUY: Why did you choose this street for your stand?

HASH: Duh. I’m very highly educated, Chrome Dome. I went to one of those … what do you call it? … Poison Ivy League schools … where I learned that the three most important factors to real estate are location … location … and … uh … well … you know … whatever that third one is.

GUY: The average age for lemonade stand operators is seven. At 78, aren’t you too old to even lead so much as a lemonade stand?

HASH: You mean, compared to Sally White just across the street? Who, by the way, claims to not be white! She’s white! I mean, her last name tells you that. I’m much taller than teeny-tiny Sally, by the way. And way whiter!

GUY: Well, she is only seven.

HASH: I’ll call her Thumbelina! No … wait … even better … Dumbelina! I was never that small. My afterbirth was bigger than her. In fact, it’s still oozing off me. Or I’m oozing from it. Good for the skin either way. I have perfect Cheeto glow skin. I bet Buffalo Bill on that reality show, Silence of the Lambs, would agree. Buffalo Bill—a great American serial killer, knocked off a lot of … uh … what do you call them … ah yes … Pocahontas people.

GUY: Neighbors complain about you reciting Randy Newman’s “Short People” through your bullhorn to bully Sally’s customers.

HASH: Shouting bull$%&^ through my “bully horn” is my First Amendment right! See that kid riding up on his tricycle?

SFX: (The squelch of a bullhorn.)

HASH: SHORT PEOPLE GOT NO REASON TO LIVE . . . THEY GOT LITTLE HANDS AND LITTLE EYES AND THEY WALK AROUND TELLIN’ GREAT BIG LIES!!! DON’T WANT NO SHORT PEOPLE ‘ROUND HERE . . .

HASH: Ha. Ha. Ha. Look how fast he pedals away! Now, add a little Pink Floyd mashup to exorcise my repressed feelings . . .

SFX: (The squelch of a bullhorn.)

HASH: How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat? you! yes! Eins! zwei! drei! alle! WAITING … TO WEED OUT THE WEAKLINGS … WAITING … TO SMASH IN THEIR WALLS AND KICK IN THEIR DOORS … WAITING … FOR THE FINAL SOLUTION TO STRENGTHEN THE STRAIN … WAITING …

HASH: Ha. Ha. Ha. See. Dumbelina. Run. Intimidation is another secret to getting people to drink the lemonade. But much more important is the size of your lemons! I have the biggest lemons! And the biggest hands to squeeze the biggest lemons. Just grab ‘em by the lemons and squeeze. They let you do it. You can do anything.

SFX: (Horns, gunfire, and “Y.M.C.A.”)

HASH: Here come my zombie worms, led by a shirtless, aging, man-boobed Russki on a Shetland pony to make him feel bigger, to put the final squeeze on Dumbelina’s lemonade stand.

SFX: (The squelch of a bullhorn.)

HASH: TEAR DOWN THE WHITE STAND!

GUY: Wait, are you encouraging—

HASH: It’s the bullhorn speaking, Chrome Dome. I’m not in control.

SFX: (The squelch of a bullhorn.)

HASH: Eins! zwei! drei! alle! TEAR DOWN THE WHITE STAND!

Email Scott at scottsaalman@gmail.com.