more than any other.
“There’s millions in diapers,” Colebert said. “We’ve barely tapped the market.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “You got all the old people thinking they need ’em now. I see all these commercials, these women, they don’t look a day over forty, running along the beach, getting their toes wet, prancing about, liberated from having to find a bathroom in a hurry. What else do you want?”
“Listen, this is just the beginning,” Leonard said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “It’s all in the marketing. As you say, we’ve created this need among old people who might actually have been able to hold it, but now figure, what the fuck, who needs to, right? Let ’er rip. I mean, sure, there’s lots of people got a genuine need, but that’s a limited market. But what about everyone else, middle-aged and younger, who figure they don’t need a diaper? You for instance.”
“Me?” I said. “What about me?”
“Say you’re on a trip, you’re doing the interstate, you want to make good time, you don’t want to have to stop to take a whiz, so you wear a diaper, you can drive for hours. You’ve got your family with you, everyone whining about taking bathroom breaks, but you put them all in diapers, you get to where you’re going sooner, which means you can start having fun sooner.” He pointed his finger at me for emphasis. “We’re talking convenience. Like take when you’re watching TV, say, like, a Super Bowl, you don’t want to miss a touchdown while you’re standing over the can, shaking that last drop from your dick.”
Bob looked across at me, then gazed back at the reflection of a full moon in the rippleless lake.
“Gamblers, of course, have been wearing them for years,” Leonard informed us casually, like he figured everybody already knew this. “Say you’re playing a slot machine, you don’t want someone else taking your place when you go to the bathroom, that machine is yours, right? You know your win is just a crank away, you can’t afford to walk away. Or you’re at the blackjack table, you’re on a streak, you gonna walk away from a thousand-dollar payoff? When you’re in a diaper, you keep shoving in those nickels, you keep playing those hands.”
He rubbed his hands together avariciously. “The trick is to remove the social stigma around wearing a diaper, so that anyone can do it and not feel ashamed. Like, if you’re elderly, and you’ve got a weak bladder, if you’ve got a real need, you shouldn’t have to feel badly about wearing one, but other people, you know, young adults, they might feel uncomfortable about it at first.”
“You think?” I said.
“Advertising’s the key. You do a campaign, sign on somebody like Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie or like Bob Dole, remember when he did the Viagra ads? Somebody like that, respectable, big name.”
I looked at Bob and we both shrugged.
“Anyway, you get someone famous, the viewer knows they’re doing it in their pants, they think, ‘Hey, I can get my head around that.’ ”
Bob grabbed his beer by the neck of the bottle and took a very long swig.
“And let me tell ya,” Leonard said, “there’s more in diapers than what you think. There’s millions. Enough to build a first-class resort up here.”
Bob turned his head. “What resort is that, Leonard?”
“I’ve got a proposal for a chunk of land just up the lake”—he pointed north—“closer to Braynor. Sometime, we’ll take a walk, we’ll drive up there and hike in, I can show you. Both of you.”
Bob persisted. “What are you talking about, a resort?”
“A fishing resort. It’ll be beautiful. Like nothing this lake or any of the Fifty Lakes up around here have ever seen. First class all the way. Five hundred rooms by the time it’s done. First phase, we’ll have a hundred rooms I figure, then gear up the rest, a hundred at a time. Gives us time to get the waterfront redeveloped, put in a
“There’s millions in diapers,” Colebert said. “We’ve barely tapped the market.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “You got all the old people thinking they need ’em now. I see all these commercials, these women, they don’t look a day over forty, running along the beach, getting their toes wet, prancing about, liberated from having to find a bathroom in a hurry. What else do you want?”
“Listen, this is just the beginning,” Leonard said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “It’s all in the marketing. As you say, we’ve created this need among old people who might actually have been able to hold it, but now figure, what the fuck, who needs to, right? Let ’er rip. I mean, sure, there’s lots of people got a genuine need, but that’s a limited market. But what about everyone else, middle-aged and younger, who figure they don’t need a diaper? You for instance.”
“Me?” I said. “What about me?”
“Say you’re on a trip, you’re doing the interstate, you want to make good time, you don’t want to have to stop to take a whiz, so you wear a diaper, you can drive for hours. You’ve got your family with you, everyone whining about taking bathroom breaks, but you put them all in diapers, you get to where you’re going sooner, which means you can start having fun sooner.” He pointed his finger at me for emphasis. “We’re talking convenience. Like take when you’re watching TV, say, like, a Super Bowl, you don’t want to miss a touchdown while you’re standing over the can, shaking that last drop from your dick.”
Bob looked across at me, then gazed back at the reflection of a full moon in the rippleless lake.
“Gamblers, of course, have been wearing them for years,” Leonard informed us casually, like he figured everybody already knew this. “Say you’re playing a slot machine, you don’t want someone else taking your place when you go to the bathroom, that machine is yours, right? You know your win is just a crank away, you can’t afford to walk away. Or you’re at the blackjack table, you’re on a streak, you gonna walk away from a thousand-dollar payoff? When you’re in a diaper, you keep shoving in those nickels, you keep playing those hands.”
He rubbed his hands together avariciously. “The trick is to remove the social stigma around wearing a diaper, so that anyone can do it and not feel ashamed. Like, if you’re elderly, and you’ve got a weak bladder, if you’ve got a real need, you shouldn’t have to feel badly about wearing one, but other people, you know, young adults, they might feel uncomfortable about it at first.”
“You think?” I said.
“Advertising’s the key. You do a campaign, sign on somebody like Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie or like Bob Dole, remember when he did the Viagra ads? Somebody like that, respectable, big name.”
I looked at Bob and we both shrugged.
“Anyway, you get someone famous, the viewer knows they’re doing it in their pants, they think, ‘Hey, I can get my head around that.’ ”
Bob grabbed his beer by the neck of the bottle and took a very long swig.
“And let me tell ya,” Leonard said, “there’s more in diapers than what you think. There’s millions. Enough to build a first-class resort up here.”
Bob turned his head. “What resort is that, Leonard?”
“I’ve got a proposal for a chunk of land just up the lake”—he pointed north—“closer to Braynor. Sometime, we’ll take a walk, we’ll drive up there and hike in, I can show you. Both of you.”
Bob persisted. “What are you talking about, a resort?”
“A fishing resort. It’ll be beautiful. Like nothing this lake or any of the Fifty Lakes up around here have ever seen. First class all the way. Five hundred rooms by the time it’s done. First phase, we’ll have a hundred rooms I figure, then gear up the rest, a hundred at a time. Gives us time to get the waterfront redeveloped, put in a
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