Satire

Satire

           

            The portly man adjusted his tie, with his two plump hands. He downed the rest of his coffee and looked out his office window on the 1,153th floor. A knock on his huge double doors behind him made him jump. They opened and in walked his three newest advisors. The previous ones had mysteriously died, by accident. They all sat down in the comfortable chairs surrounding a large desk in the center of the room. The man sat down behind the desk. Addressing the fat man behind the desk one of the three advisers fearfully told him that sales were dropping drastically. Another chimed in and said that they weren’t dropping by very much. The last one said nothing but shook in his chair. The fat man then laughed heartily and told them not to worry so much. They sighed and sunk a little into their chairs. The fat man opened a drawer in his desk. The three advisors stiffened, but he brought out a metal case and opened it, holding it out to them.

“Cigar?” he grinned wolfishly at them.

They each accepted one and let him light it for them with a gold and silver lighter. They finally fell into a relaxed conversation. Presently one of the bolder ones spoke up, while taking a long draw on his portly cigar.

            “And, we’ll pull back in front of that darned corn manufacturing plant soon enough”.

The fat man looked up from a magazine he was reading. The brave man stopped dead in his tracks.

            “Oh, DO continue Tom” he said with a deadly calm in his voice.

The once brave Tom shook as he continued with his tale about how their rival company had pulled ahead of them in sales; a fact he had left out previously. The fat man turned red as a tomato. He stood, motioned for Tom to follow him into a side room. The fat man closed the door behind them. The two advisors looked at each other nervously. Some yelling drifted out from the room and soon the door opened and the fat man walked out. He seated himself and then explained that Tom had been fired and would not be returning on account he had left for home already. The remaining two victims were petrified due to the red liquid splattered on his face and hands. He leaned foreword and asked how the stocks were doing. Slowly one of the advisors, shaking so much he was moving the chair, told him that they were very likely to succeed in passing up their rival corporation. The fat man then stood and beckoned for the poor soul to follow him back into the room. A dark stain then decorated his crotch area as he stood and followed the man.  Several screams ensued and there was much clawing at the door, before the fat man emerged. He was even more bloodied than before and was grinning like the devil himself. 

            “Now,” he said to the lone advisor, “where were we”?

The man quickly shut his jaw and composed himself. In a very composed manner he told his boss that they were certain to succeed in overtaking their rival companies. The fat man smiled profusely and reached across the desk to shake the lone survivor’s hand.