Fairy Tale Friday 37
Once upon a
time, a blizzard struck Metropoland. There were 35,000 inches of
snow, bum urine froze midair in gracefully arcing streams, and
skyscrapers became impenatrable crystal dildos.
Knowing that advancement depends on perfect attendance, the Senior Chief Assistant President of Critical Business Matters, Mr. Blap, hiked to ImportantCo Headquarters, only to find the door frozen shut!
Already waiting there was Mr. Hurngh, the Associate Vice Administrator of Urgent Issues and Business Generalities, and Blap's competition for the title of Super Senior Vice Associate of Inter-Departmental Priorities. Hurngh was flipping through "Consequential Asshole" magazine and hopping from foot to foot, as his bladder was strained and frostbite had claimed six of his toes.
This alarmed Blap, who had read of the Foot to Foot Power Hop
advancement technique, a mimicry of the mating rituals of dominant birds, in the bestselling business manifesto, "Eat the Competition - An Executive's Guide to Being King Shit". Not to be outdone, he began hopping, and he and Mr. Hurngh stood there together, hopping around in the snow and ice.
Shortly thereafter, Mr. Urf, the Managing Work Director of Ultra Super Vital Imperatives arrived on the scene. But his heart sank when he saw Mr. Blap and Mr. Hurngh already there and hopping. Blap's combover flapped upright in the cold wind like a shark's fin, a blatant symbolic phallus. Outraged at the attack on his masculinity - Urf peeled up his toupee so it stood erect, and began hopping from foot to foot, in line behind his two betters.
After some time, the VP of Professional Management and Fiscal Affairs, Mr. Gork, and the Honcho of Managing Obscure Business Derivatives, Mr. Slurg, and the Senior Technical Expert of Crucial Central Professional Focus, Mr. Plob, arrived at ImportantCo, and each took his cue from the man before him, until a fidgety line had formed at the front door, of foot-hopping, combover-flapping, crotch-adjusting, hand-clapping, spinning in circles, tap-dancing, nose-picking, humming, farting, heroic overlord fuckheads of the business world.
They never got into the building, but it was business as usual, and just as much was accomplished as on any other day. So while it was very tragic when a thirteen ton shelf of ice slid off the roof, pulverizing them all on the pavement, they died with their titles in tact, and that was what mattered. They had succeeded at business!
And because it is fucking mental to go to work in a blizzard, the Big Boss of the Area stayed at home, and succeeded at everything else.
The end! Happy Friday!
Knowing that advancement depends on perfect attendance, the Senior Chief Assistant President of Critical Business Matters, Mr. Blap, hiked to ImportantCo Headquarters, only to find the door frozen shut!
Already waiting there was Mr. Hurngh, the Associate Vice Administrator of Urgent Issues and Business Generalities, and Blap's competition for the title of Super Senior Vice Associate of Inter-Departmental Priorities. Hurngh was flipping through "Consequential Asshole" magazine and hopping from foot to foot, as his bladder was strained and frostbite had claimed six of his toes.
This alarmed Blap, who had read of the Foot to Foot Power Hop
advancement technique, a mimicry of the mating rituals of dominant birds, in the bestselling business manifesto, "Eat the Competition - An Executive's Guide to Being King Shit". Not to be outdone, he began hopping, and he and Mr. Hurngh stood there together, hopping around in the snow and ice.
Shortly thereafter, Mr. Urf, the Managing Work Director of Ultra Super Vital Imperatives arrived on the scene. But his heart sank when he saw Mr. Blap and Mr. Hurngh already there and hopping. Blap's combover flapped upright in the cold wind like a shark's fin, a blatant symbolic phallus. Outraged at the attack on his masculinity - Urf peeled up his toupee so it stood erect, and began hopping from foot to foot, in line behind his two betters.
After some time, the VP of Professional Management and Fiscal Affairs, Mr. Gork, and the Honcho of Managing Obscure Business Derivatives, Mr. Slurg, and the Senior Technical Expert of Crucial Central Professional Focus, Mr. Plob, arrived at ImportantCo, and each took his cue from the man before him, until a fidgety line had formed at the front door, of foot-hopping, combover-flapping, crotch-adjusting, hand-clapping, spinning in circles, tap-dancing, nose-picking, humming, farting, heroic overlord fuckheads of the business world.
They never got into the building, but it was business as usual, and just as much was accomplished as on any other day. So while it was very tragic when a thirteen ton shelf of ice slid off the roof, pulverizing them all on the pavement, they died with their titles in tact, and that was what mattered. They had succeeded at business!
And because it is fucking mental to go to work in a blizzard, the Big Boss of the Area stayed at home, and succeeded at everything else.
The end! Happy Friday!