This is the story of a young couple in Portland, Maine.

While waiting for her husband Don
to return home from work,
she reaches for a can of anchovies.
As she spreads the tiny fish
across a piece of lettuce
she notices a small note
at the bottom of the can.
Written on it is a telephone number…

I credit or blame Dr. Demento for this, but since the legend of our times is signing off the air, let’s bend the knee in great goofy respect. The man made weirdness cool, and we owe him.

Anyway, No Anchovies, Please. The most unlikely song ever from the J. Geils Band. Nestled somewhere in the middle of their 1980 Love Stinks album, amid all the rock, groove, and new wavey onslaught… there was this.

An odd spoken-word track that comes across as more of a demented fever dream than anything else. Kind of like a detective radio play that turns into some bizarre espionage tale, then veers headfirst into a Twilight Zone episode. Or a Saturday Night Live sketch.

Comme ci, comme ça.

The tale begins with an ordinary housewife waiting for her husband to come home. And a can of anchovies. Oh, and a secret phone number. Soon we have men in black, foreign intrigue, secret agents, mad scientists, and… and that’s all I’m gonna tell you about this story.

I mean, let’s face it. With backwards messages, strange noises, a sinister narrator, and a lingering punchline that makes a one-off novelty tune manage to raise goosebumps, No Anchovies, Please is what you put on when you really want your Halloween party to get unsettling, creepy, weird, and hilarious.

Wait until well after midnight though, when your guests think the party’s safe again. Trust me. Just hold off on the anchovies. You never know who’s watching. Or who you’ll catch on ESPN2.

‘Dalas nekcihc dna tihs nekcihc neewteb
Ecnereffid eht wonk ot suineg a ekat t’nseod ti’