Friday, August 31, 2012

ECOPOCALYPSE CH.2 - DAMAGE CONTROL


ECOPOCALYPSE CH.2 - DAMAGE CONTROL
By Jason Campbell


“Jesus Christ, my head feels like it's going to split open,” you shout. “Would you all shut up?!”

You glance around the room, staring down all those who just want to keep arguing. Whether it's the bloodshot eyes or the smell of shit and alcohol that seems to permeate throughout the room, everyone's attention is turned to you. A couple of noses twitch in disgust at the smell.

Where is that smell coming from? you wonder.

“Well, what's the plan, boss?” your Head of Public Relations asks. The comment drips with sarcasm. You had meant to fire that weasel-faced little jerk months ago. Now here you are in the middle of a public relations nightmare, and all he could think of is insulting your intelligence.

“Aren't you the PR guy? Why don't you pull your head out of your ass and see if you can figure out a way to spin this and regain some of our market share? That is what I pay you for, isn't it?”

You stare him down until he turns away, but not before tossing a couple aspirins on the table. “You look and smell like shit. Take these, it'll clear the cobwebs. I'm going to need you clean and awake for any media campaign.” Pushing past the rest of the board, he leaves the conference room, nearly knocking Milo over as he enters the room.

Milo walks up to the boardroom table and looks around. You are barely able to contain a snicker. The skin on your VP's head is bright red. It no longer says VP DERP, but you could stop traffic with how raw and red it is.

“Well, what's the plan?” Milo asks, ignoring the fact that everyone is staring at his forehead.

“There isn't one yet. The PR weasel is looking into it,” you answer as you pop the two pills that he gave you into your mouth. Pulling a silver flask from your pocket, you wash them down with a swig of bourbon.

You turn your attention to the scientific side of the equation; it's what you're best at, after all. You never really did want to be The Face of the company. The science was solid, you were positive of that. Something else had changed, maybe an outside influence. Your nose twitches as an offensive smell permeates the air.

What is that smell?

You notice a couple other people are covering their mouths and noses as they dismiss themselves from the meeting. Even Milo is looking around for the offending odor. Very subtly you turn your head to sniff your own armpits. Nothing...

“Did you just smell your own pits?” Milo asks.

“No, my neck is stiff; I was just getting a kink out of it,” you answer defensively.

Milo is about to say something when the head of your Public Relations team walks back in. Right next to him is a beautiful blonde. She looks as if she just walked out of the pages of a magazine. You rub your eyes, sure that you are hallucinating, there is no way this little twerp knows this hot babe.

“This is a reporter for KWCM, Channel 32. Time to get down to the business of repairing the company's image.” He turns to the cameraman. “You can set up right over there.”

“Whoa, whoa. I thought I would have time to...Do you smell that?” You have to fight back a gag reflex as your nose is invaded with the putrid smell of human feces. Milo's eyes widen as he points towards the corners of his eyes. You shrug, not sure what he is saying. Again he points at the corner of his eyes and then points at yourself. Reaching up to the edges of your eyes, you rub your hand across your eyes.

They come away covered in a brown liquid. You begin to gag. The smell is horrifying, and it appears to be pouring out of your eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” You glance around the room and everyone is staring at you—everyone but Weasel-Face.

Your PR guy turns to reporter. “As I promised you, exclusive footage of what our flawed product can create. The human body literally turns to shit...Ooops, can I say that on TV? We are reworking our schematics and the chemicals involved in the waste recycling and will have a new model available soon.”

What?! You try to shout at that weasel-faced little ass, but brown sewage spews from your mouth. Your vision is blurring; you can see that it's leaking from every pore.

Your legs give out as your bones begin to liquefy.

“Unfortunately there is nothing we can do for those in these advance stages of the sickness,  like our CEO here. We have created an antidote for it and it has passed all government tests. Our VP here will prove that it works. The first pill starts the liquefaction process, the second set is the newly reworked formula which will reverse the process.” He hands Milo a couple of pills. The last thing you see as your body becomes a brown stinking pile of liquefied sewage in the middle of the floor is your Head of Public Relations handing Milo the same pills he gave you for your hangover.

I knew I should have fired him....

3 comments:

  1. Now THAT'S a kill scene! Bravo! May I say "That's the shits!"

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  2. Always knew most CEOs were full of shit. Nicely done!

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  3. Well it wasn't quite Novak-esque, but I tried to live up to his standards.

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