Next! (369 hits)
Category: UberMadness! Entryno reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <deisangua.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-04-12 11:47:25 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Mr. Pompain was doodling madly with his three hundred dollar fountain pen when the miniature grandfather clock on his desk began chiming the tenth hour. The door to his office swung open on the first note, and the company's four vice presidents began filing into the office. Pompain smiled widely at them as they entered, for he knew they had been quietly hovering outside for several minutes, listening intently for the sound of the hour. He had a strict policy of timeliness: never be too late, and never be too early.
The president closed his leather notebook and capped his pen with an air of quiet determination, surveying each individual as they settled into their chairs. Jim had taken the seat to Pompain's right, as usual. The twitchy marketing manager looked typically anxious, sitting there in all of his bald-headed, sweaty glory. Shirley sat across from Jim, bathed in cheap perfume as though attempting to cover up a more nauseating odor. Colleen (or Collie, as Pompain preferred calling her) sat next to Shirley, studiously preparing to file her nails. Although the busty redhead was an unashamed idiot, Pompain did enjoy looking at her.
Bob, the new guy, was sitting at the far end of the table. In his arms was a small beige dog that quivered like a junkie at Starbucks.
"Is that a Chihuahua you're carrying, Bob?" the president asked.
"Yes, sir," Bob replied.
"Excellent work."
"Thank you, sir."
Pompain settled back in his chair and pressed his fingers together. Then he cleared his throat, and everyone but Bob tensed expectantly.
"I've called this meeting today because the Board has requested that we look for ways to incorporate animals - or animal training - into our work. Not only do we wish to reach more unique markets, but the feeling among the Board members is that we should consider what the future holds for our furry friends as well. And, as we all know..."
He lifted his hand like a symphony orchestra's conductor, and on that cue the company's slogan echoed through the office.
"The future is made by UberCorp."
"Right!" Pompain yelled, slamming his fist down onto the table. Jim and Shirley jumped in their seats. The president turned his face towards the ceiling, sweeping his arms wide with a visionary reverence. "The future is made by UberCorp!"
The president's rally was greeted by silence, and his eyes slowly rolled down to take in the fallen faces all around him.
Pompain frowned. Then he blinked. Then he raised an expectant eyebrow.
"Well? We don't have all day. Let's hear what you've got."
"S-Sir," Jim began nervously, "We didn't know we were g-going to be discussing this matter. I mean, we just got the memo an hour ago."
"Oh, come on, Jim!" the president snapped, glaring at him. "Stop trying to excuse yourself! Other people are prepared. Look, Bob there has a Chihuahua!"
"Yes, sir, I noticed that."
"Jim, what do we do here at UberCorp?"
"We m-make the future."
"That's right. And you are the vice president in charge of sales and marketing, are you not?"
"Y-Yes, I am."
"Very well, then. We make the future. Because we make the future, I don't think it's very wrong of me to assume that the vice presidents of this company also spend their time thinking into the future. In fact, I know an intelligent man such as yourself must have had a plan for this before you even got the memo. You are an intelligent man, are you not, Jim?"
"I-I think so."
"Of course you are! So you start us off. Use that big brain of yours and tell us what's next for the animal kingdom!"
"Okay. Umm, how-."
"Jim! Never ever say 'umm.' It's a sign of weakness and I won't have it. People who say 'umm' in this business are eaten alive."
"Y-Yes, sir," Jim replied, adjusting his tie. "Well, how about this? What if the future of animals is in ass-asset security?"
Pompain leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. A few supportive murmurs drifted through the room.
"Intriguing," the president finally replied. "But asset security is commonly used today, and I don't need to remind you that UberCorp in the business of the future. So, you'd better be onto something good here. Remember, he who controls the company credit card controls your future."
"Well, I haven't quite hammered all the d-details out yet, but I was thinking we could train animals for defense. But not guard dogs, which are very common and r-retro. We could have, umm, guard a-alligators or something."
"Say 'umm' again and you're out of here, mister."
"R-Right, sir," Jim stammered. "I just forgot because I was thinking into the f-future, and all."
"I see," Pompain said, rubbing his temples. "You need to focus on the bigger picture, Jim. Wouldn't it cost a bit much to train alligators? I mean, they aren't all that smart."
"P-Perhaps, sir, but they don't have to be alligators. We could use different animals. Perhaps we could train karate monkeys or-"
"But wouldn't it be cheaper, Jim, to set up a scenario where the alligators could do their work naturally? Like, say, a trap door in an office? That way, with just the flick of a switch, C.E.O.'s could get rid of an unproductive employee just like that? No mess, no fuss. You're talking about something like that, are you?"
"I s-suppose that could work, sir."
The president leaned forward, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"Tell me something, Mr. Brain."
"Sir?"
"If we do as you have suggested and make alligator traps for irritable corporate leaders, what exactly do you propose we do with all the old models?"
"Old models, sir?"
The president's eyes flicked towards the floor beneath Jim's chair. Jim swallowed and slowly leaned over to follow the man's gaze. He sat up straight again when he saw that his chair was set squarely on the center of a barely perceptible hatch. His eyes went wide, and he started quivering much like the Chihuahua at the end of the table.
"Umm..." he began. As soon as he spoke, his hands flew up to cover his mouth. He was not fast enough.
Pompain snorted and pressed a button hidden under the arm of his chair. Down Jim went with a splash, and suddenly the office was filled with the sounds of screaming and thrashing and snarling. A moment later the noise was muted as the trap door swung shut again.
"That was not, I repeat, not the thinking of the future," the president growled as he turned his gaze on Shirley, who was staring at the spot where her co-worker had been sitting moments before and visibly fighting the urge to check under her own chair.
"Next!"
Shirley flinched and let loose a flurry of words.
"My idea, sir, and I think you'll really really really like this, is to take common household pets and teach them tricks before selling them as special animals to the public. And we could have themes and-"
"Stop," Pompain said, lifting his hand.
Shirley's mouth snapped shut. The president slowly turned away, closing his eyes and smiling blissfully as Jim's muffled cries - along with some decidedly wet crunching noises - continued to echo up from somewhere below.
Several moments passed.
The Chihuahua barked unexpectedly. Pompain scowled and opened his eyes again.
"Don't animals already do tricks, Shirley?"
"Well, yes sir, but I was also thinking that with genetic research advancing as quickly as it has been we might be able to set up shop somewhere in international waters and run a few tests to see if we can't create a sort of super pet."
"Super pet? Yes, now that's thinking into the future, Shirley. But those tests sound like they'd be expensive."
"Perhaps, but we would have to make sure that the genetic research doesn't have any adverse side effects that could open us up to a lawsuit. Especially since this would probably be a more popular market for people with children."
"I see. But what kind of animals are we discussing here? I think it should be something unusual. Quick, anyone! What's an unusual pet?"
"My boyfriend's other girlfriend has a ferret and a snake," Colleen offered vaguely. She had stopped filing her nails and was now sketching something on a napkin. "I like the ferret."
"A ferret," Pompain repeated, nodding. "And what about something like a ferret, but more unusual? A weasel, maybe?"
"I think that would work well," Shirley replied confidently.
"So, what you're basically suggesting is that we unleash a bunch of hyper-intelligent weasels that could go off half cocked at any given moment on children all across the globe?"
"Well-"
"I like it. Next!"
Colleen looked up and smiled vacantly. "I have a thought," she said proudly.
"Good Collie," Pompain replied, nodding as he stared at her breasts. "Please go on."
"I was thinking that maybe we could do this thing like a zoo, only not a zoo. Like, where people could go and touch the animals instead of staring at them while they sit in cages and things, all sad."
"You mean a petting zoo?" Shirley asked her.
"Yes!" Colleen nearly shrieked, her mouth dropping open. "Wow, we could even call it that! And we could design shirts! Like, for the adults we could have bear shirts - grrrrrr - and maybe for the kids we could have little baby kitty cat lions and put words on them like this!"
Colleen held up the napkin. Scrawled in bright pink bubble letters across its surface were the words: Please Touch Me!
"Looks positively wonderful," the president replied, gawking. "We should get started on that right away! Next!"
The sound of something flying through the air tore Pompain's gaze away from Colleen. A transparent folder with a blue binding landed with a loud smack neatly in front of the president, who looked up at Bob with a slightly confused expression on his face.
Bob smiled, and the Chihuahua's ears went into spasms.
Pompain reached out and picked up the folder carefully. It only took a few moments to scan the entire thing, but his eyes grew wider each time he turned to a new page. At last, he clapped the folder shut.
"You can't do this!" he snapped.
"It's already been done. The Board approves."
"This is outrageous! You can't replace me like this!"
Bob simply folded his hands and shrugged.
"Mr. Pompain," he said, "The Board has decided that UberCorp needs new leadership. They have selected a suitable replacement."
"But it's a dog!"
"Actually," Bob corrected, shaking his finger in the air, "Mr. Yamada here is a Technologically Advanced Robotic Officer, a cybernetic Chihuahua designed in Japan. He is the wave of the future. Aren't you, boy?"
The Chihuahua yipped twice, and its left eye began to glow a bright red. Pompain immediately began turning a similar hue.
"Listen, you little fucker. You know what you can do? You can take that bitch to Taco Bell, and when you get there you tell them 'Yo quiero a foot up my-'"
The little dog's mouth dropped open again, but this time it was not bark that emerged. Instead there was a click and a whir, and Pompain suddenly found himself staring at a protrusion that looked uncomfortably similar to a gun barrel. Etched along the rim was the distinctive UberCorp logo.
The Chihuahua growled.
"I strongly suggest you watch your tone, Mr. Pompain," Bob warned. Mr. Yamada seems quite prepared to fire you."
"I-I'm sorry!" Pompain squealed, snatching up his briefcase and clutching it to his chest. "I'm sorry! I'll go! Firing is not necessary! Really!"
With that, Pompain began edging towards the door. The Chihuahua's head followed him every step of the way.
Once he was gone, the new company president trotted down the length of the table. One short leap put him on the ebony desktop. As the dog turned to face the three remaining vice presidents, the gun barrel disappeared into its mouth and the red light in its eye ebbed away.
"Well," the dog said, in a perfectly professional tone, "I think we can cross our first order of business off the list.
"Next!"
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