by Dan Ames
There is a stunningly beautiful young woman at the door. She is wearing a simple cleaning uniform. On a typical woman, the uniform would look very ordinary. But Morgan looks at her with unvarnished interest.
“Yes?” Morgan says.
“Hi, this is the Wolcott house?” she says, smiling. Morgan notes her perfect white teeth and lovely smile.
“It is,” he says.
“Great!” she says. She starts to enter the house..
“Wait,” Morgan says. “Did my wife hire you? Because you don’t look familiar.” He pauses. “And she’s out of town for the week, so I can’t ask her.” He gives her a small smile.
“She certainly did, I talked to her personally,” the woman says.
Morgan steps aside and lets the woman in the house, taking a long look at her attractive backside as she passes him.
“Uh-huh,” he says. “God knows she doesn’t know how to do any of that herself.”
The woman sets down her cleaning supplies. Morgan notes her slender legs.
“Hey, I know this sounds kind of odd, but before you get started...how ‘bout a cocktail? I just made a batch and it’s too big for me to drink alone. I’d hate to dump it out.”
The woman looks at him, then smiles.
“Sure,” she says. “Whatever you want, Mr. Wolcott.”
30
Morgan and the new cleaning lady are sprawled on the living room floor, semi-naked, drinking vodka straight from the bottle. Morgan has built a roaring fire and loud music is playing. He takes an olive from his martini and places it on the middle of his stomach.
“Oops,” he says. “Looks like you missed a spot.”
She crawls over to him, does a seductive little dance, and then climbs on top of him, kissing him, and kissing her way down to the olive. She eats it then continues south.
Morgan begins to moan.
“Whatever my wife is paying you, it isn’t enough,” he says.
31
Tom, dressed in a jogging suit, knocks on the door of Dylan’s apartment. He waits, and then knocks again. Finally, the door opens.
It’s Dylan. But he looks nothing like the sharp dresser he was at the agency. He hasn’t shaved or bathed, he’s dressed in a dirty T-shirt and gym shorts and he’s got a can of Schlitz beer in his hand.
“Hey,” he says.
He turns around, not waiting for a reply and goes back inside the apartment.
Tom looks around, and then follows him inside.
The place is as much of a mess as Dylan. Beer cans, fast food wrappers, dirty clothes are all over. The television is on but Dylan is slumped in a chair, just staring at nothing.
“Wow, this is...really....smelly.”
“Yep,” Dylan says. “Home sweet home. Want a beer?”
“No, thanks. Tough as it is to pass up Schlitz.”
“The pride of Milwaukee.”
Tom watches his friend. “So what’s going on with you, Dylan?”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke,” his friend says, turning to look at him with dead eyes.
“No.”
“Nothing is going on with me. What’s going on with you?”
Tom shrugs. “Same old stuff. Morgan fucking me over, being a total asshole.”
Tom looks around the apartment with barely concealed revulsion.
“So what are you up to?”
“What’s it fuckin’ look like?”
“Are you at least looking for a job?”
Dylan laughs.
“What’s the point of a job search when everyone in town knows you’re the king of gay porn. Download at work. Fill your hard drive. Whack off!”
“I wish you would’ve told me you were gay.”
Dylan lunges to his feet.
“I’m not gay! Goddamnit!”
Tom nods. “I believe you. You look too dirty and unkempt to be gay.”
“Goddamn right! I’m a fucking slob! I’m a pig! I totally objectify women all the time - I can’t possibly be gay!”
He sits back in his chair, cracks open another Schlitz and has at it.
“So the porn at the office?” Tom asks.
“Was planted! Someone set me up! Put all that shit on my computer.”
“Why?”
“Why? Who knows! Probably some chick I banged and then never called! I mean, let’s face it, I’m an asshole. There’s no shortage of people I’ve treated like shit,” Dylan says, then looks closely at Tom. “Yourself included.”
Tom thinks about that for a minute.
“How do you think the stuff was planted on your computer?”
“You know Doug, our IT guy? Well, we’re drinking buddies. Anyway, I got him to look over my computer after I got fired. He said the shit was all fucked up. He’d never seen anything like it. But he thought it looked like my system software had been reconfigured somehow. It was designed to automatically go to these porno websites and download everything, and then repeat it all over and over again. Once it was launched, there was no way to stop it.”
“What did Human Resources say?”
“They told me to get out, never say a word, or they would sue me for all kinds of workplace harassment.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much. They weren’t buying my explanation. They said my Internet history showed I’d been doing this porn stuff nonstop for a couple years. They expressed amazement that I’d managed to hide it for so long.”
“Wow.”
“It’s a joke. Why would I continually surf porn at work? I can’t whack off in the office, and who can spank the monkey for eight hours straight?”
“Ouch,” Tom says.
“Someone set me up. And I have no idea who.”
Tom has a thought but quickly ignores it.
No way, he thinks.
No way.
32
The conference room at Straun & Partners is adorned with all kinds of Dr. Slick materials: posters, billboards, t.v. storyboards, print ads and point-of-purchase displays.
Jack, the account guy, is the only person in the room.
Tom walks in.
“Where the hell is everyone?”
Tom is momentarily at a loss for words. “I have no idea,” he finally says. “No one knows where Morgan is. His secretary can’t reach him anywhere - home, office, cell phone. It’s like he disappeared.”
“I don’t believe this,” Jack says.
He storms out of the room and Tom sits there in silence looking at all of the Dr. Slick stuff on the walls.
Jack comes back in. “Where’s Kelly?” he asks.
“Quit,” Tom answers.
“Dylan?”
“Fired.”
Jack looks around the room. “Jesus Christ!” he shouts. Finally, his gaze settles on Tom.
“You’re gonna need a tie.”
33
Rocky is watching the monitors in his van. They show the conference room in which Tom is presenting his Dr. Slick idea to the American Oil people.
“Attaboy, Tommy. Attaboy,” Rocky says to the monitors. Java, the dog Rocky kidnapped, growls at him.
34
Tom is standing in the American Oil main conference room, replete with all manner of Dr. Slick marketing pieces.
Tom is nervous, but his voice is surprisingly calm.
“I believe Dr. Slick gives you everything you’re looking for both strategically and creatively,” he tells the assembled room. “A recurring character for consistency. A platform for telling your stories. And above all, a memorable vehicle to brand American Oil in the minds of the consumers as the “hero” of the oil industry. And now, if I may, let me introduce you to...Dr. Slick.”
The lights dim and a section of wood paneling slides back revealing a giant television screen. An advertising “animatic” begins to play. We see a classic James Bond-ish villain in the middle of his “evil lair.”
“And with my stranglehold on oil prices, I will make everyone pay while destroying the
environment!” the villain says.
Suddenly, a “hero” in the form of an American Oil worker appears a la James Bond.
“Not so fast, Dr. Slick! Your plan will never work as long as American Oil is around. Our refining techniques keep prices down and air quality up!”
The villain shakes his fist at the American Oil hero. “I should have destroyed you when I had the chance! But you’ll never catch me, American Oil!”
Dr. Slick “dissolves” into an oil slick and slides out a steel door in his headquarters.
There is a close-up of the hero. “You’ll never win, Dr. Slick. Not as long as American Oil is here to protect the world!”
The screen fades to black and the lights come up in the conference room.
Tom looks around the room and is met with dead silence.
Jack, the account guy, gets more and more nervous until he finally can’t stand it.
“It’s really more of a thought-starter,” Jack says. “A jumping-off point if you will. We’re prepared to re-craft and re-write and rethink everything.”
The President of American Oil, Gordon Wells, looks around at the various people sitting at the table. He finally gets up and walks around the table, passing all of the different executions of the Dr. Slick idea.
Finally he gets to Tom.
“Stand up, young man.”
Tom complies.
“Never in my thirty-nine year history at American Oil have I seen an idea so blatantly edgy, so ridiculously over the top, so...”
Jack jumps in, clearly panicking. “We’ll start with a clean slate sir.”
“so...perfect!” Wells booms.
There’s silence in the room.
“Perfect?” Tom says.
“Perfect. I buy it. I buy it all. The whole Dr. Slick shootin’ match. Make it happen, gentlemen. Make it happen!”
“That’s great!” Tom says. He looks at Jack, then around the room as if he’s expecting hidden cameras to be revealed.
“There’s just one thing,” Wells says, his voice very serious. Everyone stops in their tracks. “Just one thing I want to make sure happens so that the world will recognize the brilliance of this Dr. Slick idea.”
“You name it, sir. We’ll do it,” the account guy says.
Wells puts his arm around Tom’s shoulders.
“I want this go-getter in charge. I want him to make all the calls, is that understood?”
Jack sidles up and puts his arm around Tom’s shoulders as well.
“Perfectly, sir.”
They all beam at Tom.
Tom looks more than a little uncomfortable, but very, very happy.
35
Inside the van, Rocky is jumping around, celebrating. He grabs Java.
“We did it, boy! We did it!”
Java bites him.
36
School is just beginning. The kids are making their way to their desks and Ms. Calisi is at hers.
There’s a knock on the door. A woman waves to Ms. Calisi that she should join her just outside the door.
Ms. Calisi complies.
Just outside the classroom, the door partially ajar, Ms. Calisi talks to the woman.
“Hello Karen, how are you?”
“Okay, I guess,” the woman says.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, we’re having a bit of a family situation, I guess you could call it.”
“What can I do?”
“Well, it’s very strange, but someone...kidnapped our dog.
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I was. The dognappers admitted they took him, but haven’t said why or what we’re supposed to do to get Java back.”
“How sick is that?” Mrs. Calisi says. A look of concern crosses her face. “How is Molly taking it?”
They both turn and look at Molly who is standing in the corner of the classroom. She’s got a small rope tied to a stuffed dog. She’s pulling it as if she’s walking the dog, but it looks more like she’s dragging a dead animal.
“She’s the one who found the note. I sort of wish she wasn’t able to read.”
“I’m sure it will all work out.”
“I hope so. But in the meantime…”
“Yes?”
“I guess we’re just trying to take it easy on Molly. She’s kind of out of it, right now.”
“Okay, sure. No problem. I understand. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know,” Mrs. Calisi says.
They part ways. And as Ms. Calisi opens the door, we see Lisa Goddard standing there. We can see by her expression that she’s heard the whole thing.
37
Tom is in Jack’s office. It’s even bigger and more impressive than Morgan's office.
“Welcome to the big leagues, Tom,” Jack says, handing Tom a glass of champagne.
“It’s good to be here.” He sips the champagne but all he can think about is Morgan Wolcott. Where is he?
“You know how we think up here, Tom?”
“Fast?”
Jack claps Tom on the back.
“Hah! Good guess. You’re quick. I like that. No, I’ve got a story to tell you. It’s what we do up here in upper management. Awhile back I went to our chief financial officer and mentioned that we should have the executive parking spaces carpeted. Sort of make them look more dignified.”
“That would do it,” Tom says.
“But then he told me that it was pretty expensive and the company wasn’t doing all that well. If we carpeted the parking spaces, we’d probably have to lay a few people off.” Jack is positively beaming.
“Uh-huh,” Tom prompts him.
“So you know what I said?”
Tom shakes his head ‘no.’
“Make it Berber.”
There’s a pause and then Jack bursts out laughing.
Tom smiles, trying to figure out if Jack is serious or not. He realizes that yes, Jack is serious.
“Come on, Tom, let me introduce everyone to Straun & Partners newest Vice President and Executive Creative Director!”
38
Morgan is sitting in a jail cell. The room is small and filthy. Morgan and a monstrously large man named Biscuit are the only people in the cell.
Biscuit gets up, moves across the room and sits next to Morgan. Morgan looks like he’s in the process of filling his drawers. When Biscuit talks, his voice is high and whiny.
“So I heard the cops busted you for some underage girl in a maid’s outfit, huh?”
Morgan can’t answer. It happened so fast. One minute he had finished making love to the sexy cleaning lady, an hour later he was in a squad car. Arrested.
“Also heard you were some kind of hotshot advertising guy. You write jingles and shit like that?”
Morgan is nearly incapable of speech. He finally chokes out a response.
“No jingles,” he manages to say. “Mostly commercials. Website stuff.”
“I love commercials,” Biscuit says. “You remember that old one with the guy squeezing the toilet paper? What the hell was his name?”
Morgan closes his eyes. “Mr. Whipple.”
“That’s right! I always liked the way Mr. Whipple squeezed those toilet paper rolls. It was sexy. He squeezed them like they were somebody’s soft white ass.”
Morgan can’t manage a response.
“They should have called him Mr. Ass Squeeze because that’s what he was doin,” Biscuit continues, a wistful look in his eye. “Or at least, that’s what he was thinkin’ about doin’. I sure wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some toilet paper-soft piece of ass right about now.”
Biscuit starts to put his arm around Morgan.
Morgan starts shaking and whispering. “Holy Mary Mother of God the Lord is my Shepherd-“
39
Tom walks out the doors of Straun & Partners Advertising. He starts walking toward his car, but then stops. He looks around. Then he walks with purpose toward a covered parking area with names above each space.
He looks down.
They are, in fact, carpeted.
With Berber.
40
Tom is drinking from a glass of wine as he brings the bottle to the table and pours his wife a glass. Lisa comes bounding in and plops into her seat as Michelle puts a big bowl of pasta on the table. She takes a moment to pick up her glass and she holds it up to Tom’s.
They clink glasses.
“We should be drinking champagne. My husband’s a veep and my daughter’s Tinkerbell!”
“What’s a veep?” Lisa says.
“Vice President,” Michelle answers with a smile.
“Cool,” she says.
Tom notices the look on his daughter’s face.
“Is there something wrong honey?” Tom asks.
“No, it’s just, I feel sorry for Molly. Someone kidnapped her dog.”
“Really, Lisa?” Michelle asks.
“Yeah! It’s the truth, Mom! I heard Molly’s mother tell Ms. Calisi!”
“That’s really weird.”
Tom has a strange look on his face.
“Lisa, was Molly the other girl who wanted to play Tinkerbell?”
Lisa nods.
Tom thinks about that. After dinner, goes to his home office and logs onto the Internet. He does a Google search of “Rocky Sutton.”
He drums his fingers on the desk while the computer searches.
At last, he gets a response.
“No results found.”
He stares at the computer.
41
Tom pulls up in front of the building where Rocky’s office is located. He stands in front of the office where Sutton Enterprises was located. A FOR LEASE sign has been hung on the door.
Tom tries the door. It’s unlocked. He goes inside to where Rocky’s office was.
