Corporate Man is called in to investigate reports of vile, unethical business practices at Great American Business Company. What he finds there just might destroy him (except we all know the ending to The Tragic Death of Corporate Man so it should be fairly obvious that it can't really destroy him, though it can come close).
Enslaved by the Bonus Whores is an all new Corporate Man Adventure Serial. Chapters will post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Monday, January 2, 2012
The Tragic Death of Corporate Man
a hero for capitalism;
champion of the working class
by Tom Landaluce
Pee Pee Pants, Deal Breakers, and Well Dressed Presidents.
A long strand of spittle dangled from his gaping mouth, dancing like a marionette, its movements a slave to his labored breathing. He was quite fond of the spittle. It was so sparkly and stretchy. So bouncy and jiggly. It was his friend. A constant companion. A partner in the daily operations of his life.
If the spittle was his friend, then it stood to reason that the urine was his lover. She didn’t visit often, not daily anyway, but when she did come around, a sudden warmth would spread across a certain place in his pants. The place where his dormant happy parts lived.
It was ecstasy.
It was also about the only thing he felt anymore.
Everything else was numb.
The day seemed like every other day to the man, though he hardly recognized one day from the next. Someone had turned the light on in his room, approached his bed in a gait intended to avoid startling, spoke in soothing tones, removed his diaper, and cleaned the feces from his ass and crotch. The man did not feel embarrassment, instead he felt pleased that the diaper, his night time helper, had been removed since the gathering around his legs always felt pinchy.
Once he was clean he was moved from his bed to a wheel chair and rolled to the common room to await breakfast. It was here that Mr. Spittle usually popped by for a visit. Today had been no exception. After about forty five minutes, when Mr. Spittle was good and dangly, an orderly arrived to take the man to the cafeteria for breakfast.
“Boy, that’s a good, long one, Mr. Smith,” the orderly said.
Mr. Smith did not recognize his name, nor did he recognize what names were. The orderly wiped the drool from Mr. Smith’s chin.
Ooh… bye bye, Mr. Smith thought.
The orderly pushed the wheel chair towards the door and Mr. Smith felt a rush of warm delight spread over his lap.
“Pee pee Pants,” Mr. Smith said. He often thought this when she came to visit, but did not know why. This was the first time he’d actually spoken the thought aloud.
Two thoughts went through the orderly’s mind in rapid-fire succession. The first one was, “Uggh! You dirty, sick vegetable.” The second was, “Holy hell. Mr. Smith just said something.”
The thrill of being present at such a momentous event almost caused a lapse in the orderly’s own bladder control. But, instead of peeing his pants, he let out a few excited whoops and flailed his hands near his face. Then he sprinted off toward the administration office.
Mr. Smith was left, sitting in the warmth of his lover, muttering away in a tone that may have been considered sexy by some. But not many.
“Pee pee… pants.”
His vision shifted and he no longer saw the hospital. He saw two men talking. He didn’t comprehend what he was seeing though, just that the colors were loud; neon and fluorescent.