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, March 26, 2012
The light was vivid and primary. Like the glow of the 4th of July or the pristine sheen of the 1950’s. Clean and pure, but ultimately unsustainable. A collection of brightly garbed masked men and women sat gathered around a conference table.
“Motion denied. Again,” said Ben Buck, the Dollar Man.
“We haven’t even taken a vote,” said The Elephant.
“Sure we have. The last five times you brought it up. We voted. All neighs except for your sad, lonely yay.”
The Elephant glared at Donkey then tugged his golden belt buckle up over his ever swelling belly and pinched at the scarlet spandex molesting his porky thighs. He’d have to design a less constrictive uniform soon. This one made him seem all love-handley and paunchy.
gives off the impression that we support labor unions and–”
“Oh, Christ stop!”
“–and we all know what havoc the unions have wrought on our economy over the years,” The Elephant said.
“Listen to you,” Donkey yelled. “You sound like some fat-cat corporate tycoon just looking to squeeze more revenue out of the little guy.”
“That’s business. You make it sound–”
“Low? Dirty? God look at you. Elephant and aptly named. You’re getting fatter all the time.”
“And you’re an ass,” The Elephant said.
“Quiet. Both of you,” Miss Pension said, fidgeting with her mauve colored domino mask. “We’re supposed to be helping. The Greed’s out there again and we’re bickering with each other like a bunch of–”
“Screw you, Donkey!” The Elephant yelled.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. And with all the illegal immigrant workers you support I’ll bet you’ve got a
connection where you can get just that.” Tijuana
The Elephant bellowed and slammed his fist against the conference table. His belly, thighs, back-fat, wobbly triceps, and double chin jiggled with aftershocks.
“That’s it. Elephant Charge!” he called out and ran toward Donkey.
Donkey sidestepped the charge in one quick, hopping movement, positioning his hands on the ground and thrusting his legs in the air.
“Burro Kick!” he shouted as both feet slammed into The Elephants hindquarters.
There was s thudding, slapping sound and The Elephant pitched forward into a filing cabinet. There was a crash of metal and paper documents exploded into the air and scattered across the floor. Donkey streaked toward The Elephant and leaped into the air, cocking his fist back.
The Elephant pivoted and called out, “Ivory Tusks!” as he jabbed his rigid fingers up into Donkey’s gut, knocking all the air from his lungs. Donkey writhed on the ground, gasping.
A shadow seeped into the pristine light like a cloud obscuring the sun, spoiling an idyllic picnic. The Elephant advanced, wiping sweat from his forehead with a thick, meaty hand. A sticky substance clung to the back of his fingerless, spandex gloves, leaving thick tendrils like melted cheese between his face and his fingers.
“It’s him!” Ben Buck, the Dollar Man cried. “The Greed’s here. He’s got The Elephant!”