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, May 20, 2013
“This set of stairs will place us amongst the Shareholders. Trust me when I say, though I doubt you will heed my warning, you do not want to have anything to do with these creatures,” said General Apathy. “Move along at a quick, even pace. Avoid getting too close to them and never make eye contact or verbalize any sort of acknowledgment of their existence or your own.”
He turned and ascended the flight of stairs.
The floor was made of gold, hand wrought and hammered flat with jeweler’s mallets. The path was narrow, bejeweled with diamonds and sapphires, and hugged the exterior edge of the platform. There was no guard rail. A rusty chain-link fence separated the path from the space in which the Shareholders dwelt.
Large canopies obscured the Shareholder enclosure, billowing with silk and breathing out exotic incense smoke with a undercurrent of tangy body odor.
As they walked along the narrow path the
Union caught glimpses of movement in
the flowing silks. Shadowed forms that
stalked the periphery.
When they neared the first corner of the pyramid structure General Apathy paused and then whispered, “On this side there is a gap in the protective fence. This is where the Shareholders entertain the occasional, albeit very rare, visitor. Again, eye contact is to be avoided, and stay as close to the edge of the path as you can manage.”
And they continued their walk.
The rusty chain-link fence ended after a handful of steps and the silken canopy retreated into Shareholder territory revealing a satin-pillowed landscape. Clusters of low, lustrous tables pocked the terrain. Tawdry financial magazines spread themselves like dirty fans across their surfaces.
There were creatures gathered around the tables.
The faces of these things were nondescript and vacant. Their mouths hung agape; constantly salivating. They wore expensive, tailored suits which were pressed and immaculate. Except for the chest. Here the suits were pulled open, revealing bare flesh. I looked as if a cavernous wound had punctured the center of their naked torso and, left untreated, the cavity had healed into something dented and grotesque. Thick lines of scar tissue radiated from each wound which left their chests looking like giant, puckered assholes.
One of the Shareholder creatures stood at a table near the path, mouth breathing and swaying like a praying mantis. As the
approached he swiveled toward them in a slow, fluid movement. The pucker scar in the center of his chest
twitched in quivering spasms, like the ass of a dog about to shit.
The path widened into an oval at the center of the fence gap. The
instinctively hugged the exterior edge of the platform.
Franklin Buck glanced at the Shareholder.
The thing jerked into a crouch and flashed his teeth with a succession of quick, shuddering tugs of its upper lip. Franklin Buck flinched away, nearly topping from the platform edge. He overcorrected and veered toward the low set tables in a spastic stumble. When he caught his balance, he was less than five feet from the Shareholder, stuck in a crouching position.
There was a sound, like the inhalation of breath, almost like a lizard hiss.
The Shareholder sprang forward. Franklin Buck tried to run but was quickly overtaken. The Shareholder’s grappling arms wrestled
back down to his knees. Then it moved
in, pulling Franklin Buck toward its chest.
The puckered scar opened and the One Hundred Dollar Man’s head
disappeared into the pulsing chest-butthole.
“Back! Back!” General Apathy shouted. He smacked at the Shareholder’s face with a rolled up financial magazine and tugged at Franklin Buck’s suit collar. The Shareholder fought to maintain its grip and received another battery of disciplinary smacks.
There was a wet sucking sound, like the one that accompanies the loss of an expensive shoe in an unexpected patch of mud, and Franklin Buck’s head came free of the life draining orifice. General Apathy gave the Shareholder another solid whack and then dragged the One Hundred Dollar Man back to the path.
The Shareholder strode to one of the low lying tables and sulked on satin pillows.