Chapter 2: The Fast And Furious
Why on earth does CTHA want to sign this band?
More importantly, why do I want to sign this band?
Oh that's right, revenge...
I navigated the early morning traffic, blasting the ugly bunch in my car. What is so appealing? What, if anything, is so marketable? Why these pizza faces? I asked myself these questions until the songs started to repeat. They can barely talk, they have hair like Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon, and they don't look like the Jonas Brothers. I just don't get it. Frustrated, I decided my fellow morning commuters should suffer.
Yes maroon Pontiac; I do think your rear fender is the best place for my headlights. Sorry cream KIA, the paved shoulder is only there for my car, me cutting you off was your fault. And I get it olive Toyota, I truly do, but the middle finger doesn't change the fact that I'm driving an Audi and you're driving an echo. I wonder if Danica Patrick is single...
I arrived to my office and greeted my secretary. "Hey Christine, legs still look good. Boyfriend gone?"
Her eyes didn't even flinch from the computer monitor. "Hey Dan, beer belly and bald spot still look terrible. Wife still gone?"
I laughed as I walked to my office. "Every day is bliss Christine. I'm so glad I hired you for your tits- I mean experience."
As I settled down into my desk I heard Christine muttering outside my office, discussing with herself what seemed to be whether to quit, sue me for sexual harassment, or remove my heart from my chest...so I accepted the glory of victory and turned on my computer. She knows why I hired her. Maybe it's not a glorious victory...I haven't seen her naked. She must like girls...
The computer loaded, and I popped my email open. I had all the usual spam, plus two new emails. I opened the first; it was from Shawn, saying the band would drive into town later on in the day to sign the papers. She thinks my beer gut is ugly, wait till she sees these creatures. I replied to the email: From: DanielGrant@GA.com Sent: July 2, 2009 9:24 AM To: Shawn_666@WE.com
Hey elephant man, I got your email, I'll be in my office all day printing off the waste of trees that are your contracts, so stop by anytime before 6. Also, say hello to my secretary Christine when you come, she says she's never been to the zoo, so I told her I'd show her the next best thing.
P.S: Real scary email adress Shawn, are you five? Get a f--king new one.
I sent the email and clicked back to my inbox to open the second message.
...Am I hallucinating?
I stared in disbelief at an email from an address I had seen so many times before. Phil f--king Hedden. I leaned back and cracked my knuckles. I considered sending it straight to the recycle bin like I used to do routinely only three years ago. I decided I'd let this one live. I opened the email.
From: PhilHedden@CTHA.com Sent: July 2, 2009 8:34 AM To: DanielGrant@GA.com
Stealing clients Dan? We need to have a face to face, now.
My mind raced. How the hell did he find out so soon? I stood up from my chair and began to circle my desk. What does this mean? Are they going to make a play for the ugly bunch? Did they already have an offer out? What if they sue? The pizza faces are probably too dumb to know you can only sign one contract! I sat back down in my chair and turned towards the window, looking out towards the Toronto skyline. I wish I could rewind to an hour ago, when instead of pulling out of the garage, I just let the car engine run and let the fumes from the exhaust pipe take me to a nicer, Phil-f--king-Hedden free place. The phone rang, destroying my moment of optimism. I picked it up, and expected to hear the person from The Ring whisper I have seven days to live.
Hello, this is Daniel Grant...
Mr. Grant, this is Samantha from CTHA, I'm calling to request your attendance in an appointment with Phil Hedden at 11 o'clock today. My expectations were close enough.
My heart stopped. This is all happening too soon. Far too soon. I didn't want much. Not at all. I just wanted to steal a potential client from their Shrek-like hands and laugh all the way to the metaphorical bank while a metaphorical fire consumed them all. I gathered myself. Sure, yeah I'll be there.
I hung up the phone as quickly as possible. I sat frozen for a moment. That suicide fantasy from a minute ago sure sounded nice...
Wait, why was I miserable and scared? These people destroyed my life! Signing the ugly bunch from under them would ruin theirs... There was only one way to approach a situation like this.
I stood up in a fury, and began to gather what I needed. Laptop...check. Blackberry...check. Paper...check. Pen...check. Gun...I wish I owned one. I threw all the items into my brief case and closed it. I eyed the ugly bunch's demo on my desk, and picked it up. I better be able to figure out why I'm going through all this shit, might as well take this with me and try listening to it again. I ran out of my office and out into the hall.
Dan! Why did I have to put someone from CTHA through to your phone? Said Christine as I ran by her desk. She began to give chase.
I stopped at the elevator, slamming the down button. "Come on, come on, come on!"
Dan, what the f--k is going on! Screamed Christine. I began to head for the stairs.
Dan! Yelled Christine. I began to sprint down the stairs. Dan! Where the f--k are you going!
I stopped on a platform many floors down but many floors from the ground. Heaving, I looked up at Christine, who was at the edge of the stairs. Man the guns Christine I started to run down the rest of the stairs. We're going to f--king war!
I sat in the lobby of CTHA, biting my nails. I visualized what the walls would look like engulfed in flames. My eye started to twitch. I wonder how much gasoline would take to cover an entire floor, plus desks. I began to eye the people working around me. I hate your black tie. You look fat in that skirt. I know that's a toupee but you look like a cartoon. The gatekeeper of hell, who was the voice from the phone, interrupted my important thoughts. Mr. Grant, please follow me.
As I followed her through the cave-like workplace, I decided what really should have been said in the lobby. Mr. Grant, welcome to hell, Satan is ready for you, please remove your pants for the oncoming sodomy, now follow me into the underworld.
She stopped, and once again interrupted my important thoughts. Mr. Hedden is waiting for you right through those doors. I nodded, hesitated, and then began to speak as I opened the doors.
Phil! I can't believe they moved you out of the closet office and into something.-
My tongue, heart, and legs ceased to move. I stood face to face with 10 agents, 3 CEO's, and Phil f--king Hedden.
I screamed at the phone. Christine!
Dan! What happened! Where are you! What's wrong! said Christine.
Well, what's f--king wrong Christine is that I just found out what it was like to stand in front of Hitler and tell him I didn't give two shits about Russia! I screamed so high I risked the life of my Bluetooth, all the while driving like Michael Schumacher.
I inhaled, and then screamed again. And what's f--king worse, is that Phil Hedden and the rest of the Klu Klux Klan just informed me they are about to send an offer to the group of pugs, and it's at least 3 times the amount of money I offered them! Confused, Christine replied. What are you talking about? Group of pugs...oh you mean The Sunday Shovel Bunch', why do you keep calling them pugs?
I screamed again, losing my voice. Because their f--king ugly and their name is retarded! But it doesn't matter anymore; CTHA is going to get to them before me!
God...Dan, what can I do? Said Christine.
Well, for the sake of our income, I need you to get the ugly bunch on the phone and into my office in the next half hour, because CTHA's offer could be coming any f--king minute. If you can't get them, we'll lose them. I'll be there in 45.
I threw my phone onto the passenger seat. It would take driving like Vin Diesel to get me to the office in time. Where's the NOS switch when you f--king need it.
I ran like Usain Bolt up the stairs. I ripped open the door and began to sprint. The hall seemed to stretch the length of a football field. I made it to the goal line, and slammed my hands onto Christine's desk, gasping for air.
Out of breath, I interrupted her. Christine, the fact that your glasses make you look like a naughty school teacher who just wants to punish me with a ruler stick won't even distract me now. It's time to get into that office, sign the papers with those ugly kids, and stick a big middle finger to the entire CTHA." But Dan-
I interrupted her again. You really don't listen. Call our PR guy, I want this as the headline for our announcement in the paper tomorrow: Daniel Grant Agency signs big client; says f--k you to CTHA' and I want that same paper to be sitting right on top of Phil F--king Hedden's desk." I began to walk towards my office.
I stopped at the door and spoke. Christine, silence is golden, okay? This is my moment."
I twisted the door knob. Oh and Christine, get some champagne for me and these ugly-
I opened the door. My office was empty.