The Great Man
A disgusting short story.
You have been warned
The Great Man surveys his pristine desk. He has been charged with reaching an important agreement and glances at his watch once more. Everything was set. Another glance directed to his perfectly polished shiny red phone. He mulled over why he couldn’t dial out, as a low rumble entertained the Great Man’s tummy. Not to worry, the Great Man knows what to do. He always does. The Great Man methodically raises his right bum cheek.
Disaster!
Bubbling liquid oozes into his underpants! The phone springs into action.
Tri-Ring! Tri-Ring!
The Great Man does what all great men do. He takes charge. He stands, lowers his immaculate trousers without a hint of friction, and negotiates his left hand to soak and mop the hideous brown goo into the remnants of his underpants. So far, so good. Yes, the tide had been turned.
“Hello” the Great Man gulps. A great stink envelops the room.
The negotiations are as tricky as the sticky brown liquid dripping through his fingers. Oh no, he mouths. My shoes! The Great Man has no time to waste, it’s quickly decided these talks are going nowhere. Excuses are made and he hangs up abruptly. “Fuck it, the environment can wait. I’m covered in shit!” Thankfully the Great Man’s assistant already has the hose in hand.
“Oh, and spray the fucking chair this time”.
He pulls his suit-jacket forward with his remaining manicured hand and juts his jaw out bravely.
“Negotiations will resume tomorrow”.