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.

After nearly a decade of imprisonment, Corporate Man returns to find the economy in ruins and his deadliest enemies in control of all but a fraction of society's wealth. He embarks upon a quest to set right the wrongs of the business world; a task that will ultimately destroy him.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Chapter 83

Tanya and Mr. Jones were in the checkout lane of the Shepley’s electronics department waiting to buy the toy raygun and PDA that Mr. Jones had selected.  He held the baggy of greed-links up to his face and said, “Well, they’ve stopped twitching.”
Tanya reached up and yanked his hands down, then looked about to see if anyone had seen.
“Dude, did you turd in a bag?” a moppy-haired, never-seen-an-actual-ocean surfer guy said.  He brushed his bleached locks out of his eyes, leaned down, and peered into the bag.  After a moment he said, “Dude.  You did.  Oh man.  Totally sick.  And not sick as in man that’s sick.  Just plain sick. Hey, why carry it around with you?  And why walk around a supermarket with it?  Oh, and dude, seriously, as a side note, based on what I’m scoping in that baggy there, something’s seriously wrong with your bowels bro.”
“Would you like to go ahead of us?” Mr. Jones asked, his gesture indicating that the surfer-man should move forward.
“Awesome,” he said, swaggering toward the awaiting checker.  “I’m haulin’ a couple more things than you, though.  You just got that toy gun, the PDA thing, and your poop bag.  But heck, not gonna be one to look at a gift horse you know.”
The surferish guy began a round of pleasantries with the checker.  Tanya and Mr. Jones shared a look, the silent conversation between them being a shared consensus that, perhaps, The Greed pieces should remain tucked away until they took up residency in the toy gun.
“Seriously,” the pseudo surf boy was saying to the checker.  “Nastiest thing I seen all week.  Check it out when he comes through.  Make you wanna hurl.  But hey, be gentle with him.  Dude’s sick, yo.  Needs to see a butt doctor or something.”