Companies as Characters - Save the Economy

Air Canada sat in the Prime Minister's office, legs crossed and both hands cupping her knee. It was as much a posture of comfort as it was a way to keep his feet from bouncing in nervousness. The office was silent except for the clicking of the old style clock on the PM's desk, but thick with tension. Air practiced holding his breath for as long as he could just to pass the time.

The first sign of the other guy's arrival was the yelling and commotion coming from down the hall. The sounds got closer, gaining thumps and bumps as they neared, when suddenly Petro-Canada burst through the double doors of the office, the PM's executive assistant trailing closely.

"You can't just- I'm sorry Madame, I told him he can't just barge in here- "

"It's OK Percy, I'm expecting him."

"Yeah, y'see Purse, I'm expected."

Petro was decked out in a silk shirt and dark brown leather jacket, an Italian scarf draped loosely around his neck. He pulled an apple from his pocket and chomped on it loudly in the assistants face. Petro turned towards the PM and saw Air sitting there.

"Oh, it's you."

"Sit down Petro," the PM barked. "You're late enough as it is."

"Eh, sorry sir, ma'am, you know how it is, jet-setting around the world, meeting and greeting, selling oil, buying oil," he said with a big smile.

"Well, you certainly have grown awfully big for you britches since you started working for Suncor," Air stated, the annoyance in her voice thinly disguised behind a veil of condescension. 

"Aw c'mon sugar, it's not like you've exactly gotten anywhere sticking with Big Brother if you know what I'm saying."

"I've done well enough and-"

"That's enough you two!" The PM had risen to her feet and was staring the both of them down. "I didn't call you in here so you two could bicker. Petro, sit down."

Petro slumped into the chair next to Air, then bumped it away from Air centimetre by centimetre.

The PM sighed, than sat back down, smoothing her blouse, a gesture she performed more out of habit than necessity since she was always expertly pressed and neat. "I'm sure both of you have been following the media, and are aware that Canada has entered a bit of a recession."

Air nodded enthusiastically, waiting on every word that came from the PM's mouth. Petro just rolled his eyes. 

"Well, the reality is much worse than that. We've been in a recession for some time and now we're about to default on some of our loans. If that happens, China is going to come in and have to possess our country. 

Even petro was visibly stunned, but Air burst into tears. 

"Oh madame! This is awful how could this have happened I had no idea what can I-"

"Quiet Air Canada, I'm getting to it."

Air's mouth snapped shut, but the tears continued.

"Since this is an election year, I can't very well have this news getting out, and the best way to fix this problem is to solve it. So I'm assigning both of you to get out there and stimulate the economy!"

"Oh yes of course right away madame I can do it whatever you need I'll do my best and I won't let you down you'll see-"

But Petro laughed with great barks of noise, and rose to go.

"I'd love to help you ma'am, but I don't work this beat anymore, you know, so I'm just going to go back-"

"Petro sit down!"

Petro sank back into his seat despite himself. 

"I've already talked to Suncor. She's given you back to me until this crisis is over."

"What?! She never told me nothin'!"

"I asked her not to, so I could tell you myself."

"Why that timing no good b-"

"Petro Canada that is enough!"

Petro sank even lower into his chair.

"Look, I know you two have had your … problems, in the past, but I need you two to work together. You each bring your own sets of talents and skills to the table, and goodness knows you both could use some work stimulating the economy in your own sectors-" both Air and Petro coughed and looked at each other sheepishly at that, "but I need you to call in any debts, or favours, or whatever to get this done. This beyond just my re-election – this is about the future of our nation, as a nation."

The tension in the room had subsided significantly, and had been replaced with a sort of resigned determination. Both Air and Petro owed a lot to the PM, and they couldn't turn their backs on the nation, not in a time of need like this.

Air Canada looked at Petro-Canada, nodded, then said to the PM, "You can count on us."           

Companies - by Sasha

It seemed like no one could get a moment of peace this days. Neon lights flash constantly around every corner, sending multicolored beams through the misty air. Loud advertisements were the norm, shouting to lose weight and eat less or screw it all and do what you want! Look at these pictures of the mountains, of the beach, of all the places that are better than where you are and more like where you want to be! Bright, iridescent messages about money, beauty, and power shone at all hours of the night. Even the panels on the sides of the bus glittered and moved as it approached the damp corner of 122^nd and 39^th.

It was raining, and in sharp contrast to the downtown light show, the bus was plain and white underneath the layers of dirt and grime. It shuddered as it drove through a mud-filled pothole, and screeched rather dangerously to a very abrupt halt in front of the dilapidated wooden bench.

The doors creaked open and the new passenger was greeted with the soulless image of an automated driver. He swiped his pass across the pay panel at the front of the bus and sat down, only to be bombarded by screens on every free surface, the city trying its best to soak up money from any potential advertiser. In this case, the entire bus was dominated by the face of one woman, though each screen was comically out of sync with the next.

The passenger didn’t consider himself to be any sort of pop culture fanatic, but in this day, not knowing the biggest celebrities was nearly impossible. Their faces showed up everywhere, spewing their supposed wisdom every minute from his early morning commute to the minute he closed his curtains at night, blocking out the billboard across from his apartment. Of course, the biggest companies tried to show each other up – from Coach to Prada to Chanel, each spokesperson was more exciting and glamorous than the last. But those weren’t the ones that really bothered him. Their words were empty and their slogans were frankly unimaginative. No, there was only one spokesperson who really bothered him, and she was the one currently winking at him from every panel on the bus.

The Real Canadian Superstore, that’s what he called her now. She’d had a different name before, but that hardly mattered at this point. Her face was everywhere, and anyone living in Canada knew who she was. Why a glorified grocery store needed such a ubiquitous spokesperson was beyond him, but for years Real Canadian Superstore had been at the top of the advertising food chain. Most people couldn’t remember when they first saw her, only that everyone in the country could recognize her.

“Real.” He scoffed at the thought. Sure, that was definitely what the ads were going for – with her undyed, straw-colored hair, the smattering of freckles across her brow, the small but noticeable gap between her front teeth – in contrast to the beauty companies, she was supposed to represent a more everyday sort of human being. Someone you could see walking past you on the street, maybe glance twice in her direction, but nothing more. And sure, maybe that’s what she’d been in the beginning – just a normal, nondescript woman (though he knew for a fact she was from Iowa) – but that was certainly not what she had become. Big dreams could take someone to a strange place, and even though her eyes were still that same stunning grey, they seemed to have left some of their depth behind.

The bus couldn’t drop him off quick enough. When it finally pulled up to his brick apartment building (one of the few without a giant billboard plastered to the front), he hopped out of it as fast as he could, leaving her picture behind. He always thought, somehow, that if he could just avoid seeing her then maybe she’d disappear, and maybe tomorrow he’d get through his morning commute without being told how great he’d look in Joe’s fall line.

As he entered his apartment and pulled his dark curtains over his living room window, he found himself wondering, as he too often did, how much better things would be if the world had never become like this. All of these advertisements, all of the consumerism, the misplaced loyalty to companies that never actually cared as much as they professed they did. Perhaps if he’d never gotten into the advertising game, he’d never have met her, never had his heart broken, never have failed. Or perhaps, maybe he just shouldn’t have chosen to become the face of a company like Michael’s.

Walt Disney and Starbucks as characters in a short story

He walked through the dense lush forests of the amazon. Searching. With his fireman pants pulled up tight and his frayed cross-stiched bathrobe tight around his body. He breathed deeply into his gas mask and looked deeper into the forest. He was close now. His right hand shuffled into a satchel that one carried around their waste and pulled out a large metallic box with lots of flashing lights and knobs on it. A small screen showed a red dot that was very close to a blinking blue dot.

“Very close I am” He muffled to himself

“What are you close too?” An excited voice called from beside him

“Ahh” The man said his sombrero almost falling off of his head.

“What are you scared off? Was it me? I hope it wasn’t me because I didn’t want to scare you I just wanted to help you. My name is Walt and I like helping people and going on adventures. Do you like going on adventures. Because I think adventures are FABULOUS. What’s your name?” Walt said excited with a zany look in his eyes.

“I was scared but am currently not. I do like adventures and my name is Buck. Who are you?”

“Buck you say wow that’s amazing. You could even say it’s fabulous. Where are you going and where have you come from. I am a unicorn and I live in this forest?” Walt happily said as he pranced around Buck

“I came from a faraway land. I am searching for a particular artifact.” Buck said nonchalantly as he shuffled his bright yellow crocs on the ground.

“OHHHH interesting, what does this artifact do, is it shiny, does it help you find princesses?” Walt said as he rubbed his back on a tree

“No it doesn’t help you find princesses it is an artifact that allows you to change any type of clothing into something else. It is the ultimate clothing modifier.”

“Wow that is fabulous. Well lets go find the artifact then.”

“According to my MSP8990 the latest in artifact tracking technology the artifact should be just at the edge of this forest.”

“Fabulous. I’ve been to the clearing thousands of times but I never looked for an artifact before lets go.” Walt said as he pranced around Buck one more time and then led him through the dense jungle

A couple minutes later they excited the forest into a huge clearing and in the middle of the clearing was an enormous oak tree that dominated the clearing.

“My tracker is pointing towards the oak tree it must be near it” Buck commented

“The oak tree is fabulous because its magic and it protects all the nice forest creature from all the bad ones. It also has a really weird branch that sags down and I have never found out why.” Walt said as he leapt over Buck

Buck ran over to the tree almost losing his bathrobe in the process and examined the lower hanging branch. He pulled out a short wand from the tree and exclaimed

“Found it. Found it I have. I can change any clothing apparel. Now all people will respect my fashion. They won’t say that my color schemes or that my style will clash.”

“Yay you found it. Now everyone will be fabulous even though I think your clothes are really weird but it doesn’t matter because you’re fabulous.”

Exxon Meets Kryptonite: A Sequel by Lenitschka

Tonight's Game (which was focusing on what to do when you get stuck story wise): Take an old story. Come up with 12 ideas of where it could go. Choose one, write a page.

Pop cans weren’t her favourite, but they did in a pinch. Exxon Valdez knew she wasn’t supposed to. She knew she had promised her psychiatrist, her boss, her mother and her husband that she would take her pills and stop trying to eat every bit of metal that came along, but this was just a treat; a reward for eating regular human food all week. She ripped apart the Pepsi can and popped the tab into her mouth.

Her fingers ran over the sharps edges as she walked home. The jagged edges cut her tongue, yet somehow, when she reached home she had eaten so much of the Pepsi can she was craving a second helping. The house was empty when she got there, so she ran to the recycling bin, digging out the empty soup cans Mobil had thrown out after dinner last night. She wouldn’t eat the lids. Mobil was right, those were too sharp, but the can itself wasn’t. She grabbed one with the label ripped off and started gnawing as she flipped on the tv, letting the six o’clock news serve as background noise as she put water to boil and started slicing tomatoes. Mobil would want pasta for dinner. She would eat a few bites and sneak down for a real meal later.

“Campbell’s is doing a product recall after a local plant found green rocks had been mixed in with their can production” the news anchor said. “The rocks are from an unknown origin and it is doubtful eating the food contained in the contaminated cans will cause serious harm, but consumers are being urged to return all of the following products until Campbell’s can ascertain what the green rocks are.”

The news anchor went on to list a number of canned soup varieties. Exxon turned on the blender and missed the whole thing. She hummed to herself as she sliced tomatoes, tossed them in the blender and chewed on her tin can. By the time the tomatoes were pureed, it was time for the weather. Looked like rain tomorrow and Mobil’s golf game would have to be cancelled. Exxon made a mental note to stay out of the garage until she could think of a better way to make her husband’s golf clubs look unappetizing. Recycled soup cans were one thing. Mobil’s Titleist putter was quite another.

Exxon lifted the lid off the pot. A cloud of steam met her face as she looked down into the boiling water. Absently, she felt around on the counter for the spaghetti noodles. With impressive force, the box of noodles snapped into her hand as if they had a mind of their own. Exxon pulled back and stared. Had the spaghetti just, had she just . . . . no way, that would be too weird.

She looked at the blender and held out her hand. It sped towards her so fast it spilled half the tomatoes on the way there. Exxon stared at the blender, then at the tin can on the counter, the Campbell’s soup can, with her teeth marks all over it.

She raced to her computer, and Googled “Campbell’s product recall.”

VP (Student Life), by Dima

Ew

students

greasy hair

greasy chair

greasy underwear

ew

kill me

kill me now

make a pyre of introduction to cognitive development and computer speech technology: a primer and set it alight and throw me on top and kill me

books

so many books

not good books

not hunger games

not artemis fowl

just wide sargasso sea and nectar in a sieve

ew

kill me now

so great a pleasure taken hostage and made perversion

student res

student says

for better food vote chad for prez

Res

ew

burning

every crotch on parker 4th floor

burning

a practical education in community health

and psychology

take half a semester of abnormal psych 349

and everyone's prescribing herself ssris

spouting half-understood pop psychology on the damaging effects of profs' unprofessional behaviour

unprofessional behaviour made a profession

in this dark place

student labs

student abs

did i mention students getting crabs?

antifreeze

on frozen quads

summer's gentle breeze

and gorgeous bods

reminds me that if i follow my heart

i will be alone forever

ew!