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Pretty, poised and deadly, Mrs. J. should have been a lethal combination of the arts that only a woman can perform and a top notch spy for Great Britain. However, she suffered from one unforgivable sin. A sin that made her presence known before she would glide into a room, fix her black eyes on her target and strike. As a result, the greatest spy since Mata Hari sat out the Cold War asking herself, "Why? Why?"
From School Girl to Super Vixen
She was born Beryl Armstrong, and later given the code name "Mrs. J". The woman who could single-handedly bring down Stalin, the Shah of Iran, Fidel Castro, Osama Bin Laden, and Captain Underpants was a bouncing plumpkin of joy, and the only such plumpkin born to her decidedly normal parents, Herb and Vera Armstrong. In fact there was nothing within her childhood that would indicate greatness, save for the ability to eat a mud pie every once in a while.
Young Beryl was a normal girl in every sense of the world. Until the day that reached 13, everyone from her teachers to her parents thought that Beryl would do well to give up on the pies and learn to cook for real if she was going to capture a husband.
However, on the day that she reached that magic number of 13, things inside of Beryl started to boil. Her body burned off the baby fat to make room for the pert nubile breasts that soon followed. Her stubby legs, now free of their chuncky-wunky look, on a sleekness that would be the envy of even Naomi Campbell. The only fly in ointment was her skin, which looked for a time like Disney’s animated version of the moon. But, it too cleared up and revealed stunning good looks.
Capping it all off was a brain that was a master in the ancient feminine art of "Knowing"; allowing her to stay two steps in front of everyone else and become an authority on just about everything from dating and hemlines to napalm bombs and the art of Ninja Stars.
With movie star good looks, bee stung lips and a body that could only be described by the road sign "WARNING: Dangerous Curves Ahead", one would have thought that young Beryl would have been beating off young men left and right. Oh, sure, guys would ask her out for a date, but they were so stand-offish by the end of the evening that, try as she might, the girl who could have been a young Elizabeth Taylor's dupler (save for her emerald green eyes), could barely get a quick peck goodnight after a movie.
Tired of the games with boys, Beryl knew that if she wanted a man, she had to go where men were. She did the only logical thing that a girl could do: she became a Demonstration Model, the only career that could put her looks and beauty to the test.
Discovered while drinking a chocolate soda at an arms convention (where she was demonstrating the American-built Ticonderoga 55 Tank with a built in mini-bar), Beryl was swept up by MI5, which understood the power and the brains behind the false eyelashes. Her cunning mind and brainiac manner of solving problems, combined with her lithe feminine build made her basic training a snap and before you could say “lip lube” she completed her training, tops in her class. So impressed with the field notes, there was talk among the unnamed few who over see such things about christening her with the operative name of 004. But after reading the fine print and careful reconsideration, on the field notes, a decision was made that they really didn't want to ask her for a second interview, she was given the code name of “Mrs. J” and she was sent to sit patiently, waiting for her first assignment.
The only problem was that there was an air about her that people just couldn’t pin down. The specialists at MI5 believed that her power of "Knowing" was so great that Mrs. J somehow broadcast it out for everyone else to sense.
Nonetheless, she was deployed to Cairo, Egypt where she went undercover as a fish monger. There she was in her element, immediately sending secret dispatches of great worth to the home front. She spoke seven native tongues - and being on a need to know basis, she needed to know everything. Her superior hearing made it easy for her to eavesdrop; her memory skills made note taking unnecessary. Unable to contact her contacts, she felt the pulse of the nation and she struck. After toppling King Farouk, Mrs. J returned home, but instead of accolades, that thing about her reared its ugly head, this time far worse.
The chemists at MI-5 set to work and tried to discover what was making it so hard for the folks at the office to be around Mrs. J.
The Unforgivable Sin
She should have been tops on the list for the promotions being given out, but when it was discovered what Mrs. J’s problem was, no man at MI5 could bring himself to tell Mrs. J. what the problem really was. So :
- She became the lover of the Ayatollah Khomeini for a while until she nagged him to drive out the Shah of Iran.
- She grew tired with Iran, and walked home.
- She grew old.
- She drew a hefty pension.
- She was alone, except for her cats.
And her problem?
It seems that feminine odor kept Mrs. J. from achieving her dreams and prevented her from reaching her full potential of saving the world from the mess in which one now finds ones self. Had she only known of the power of original brown Lysol Disinfectant, our story might have been happier, and the world would have been a safer and more aromatic place.
You see, what Mrs. J didn't know is that the same Lysol that hospitals, nursing homes, and care centers use to mop their floors with is also effective when used as part of an effective douche program. Brown Lysol reaches into the folds and crevices, and coats where odor causing bacteria live and multiply. Original Lysol is strong enough to scrub the dried-on, caked-on vomit from the streets of New Orleans, yet it will not harm delicate feminine tissues. It leaves you feeling hospital-clean and fresh. Now you know the source of Grandma’s lingering scent.
Learn from the lesson of Mrs. J.: don't let embarrassing odor ruin your potential.
Remember now, Lysol original formula is now available in a fresh pine scent too!