Get 'em, Slick

Slick Phalanges exited Rhipauff's executive conference room without exiting his world of confident bliss. Not only had all the praise for the deft exploitation of Alley Girl gone to him, he'd managed to steer the new single decision so that the windfall would go straight to his cronies at MediaFarm. When he owned half the globe, he thought, he might look back on today as the ultimate scale-tipper. Calculating his next dozen or so moves, he held the door open for the Executive Director.

"Hey, Slick...bounce up to my office in fifteen!"

At that request, the next fourteen passed in a haze of euphoria. This was absolutely the day. In a way that was a shame, because he'd really hoped more...experiments would be necessary to get the big break. Well, even from the top there were always reasons to get one's hands dirty. So it was with great anticipation that Slick arrived, one minute early, at the office of Lee Quiggsley Dastard, CPA, DDS, MPA, XYZ PDQ, Executive Director.

"Come in, come in," began Dastard. "We have much to discuss." If you've ever seen a creationist propelled through time to a dinner party with H. Erectus, then you know the look that crossed Slick Phalanges's eyes. Otherwise, just accept that it was not best pleased and very confused. For on Dastard's desk perched a lovely family portrait, next to which rested a striking still image of a bread-knife beheading. Phalanges goggled into a distressingly clear image of his own eyes.

"Yes, quite grisly, isn't it. It's such a tragedy that we were unable to identify the fellow with the cutlery. Of course, you've been called here to discuss matters of a much more pleasant nature." With each word Slick's devious mind spun faster and faster, finally coming to rest with its little clicky flag stuck on the tine between "internal maniacal laughter" and "celebratory cash register noise." He wasn't quite out of trouble, but this was something he could work with.

"Of course, sir. What are your needs?"

Dastard rose, and strolled around to the front of his desk. He leaned back, ankles crossed in a casual pose and lifted the greusome image gently. "Well, Slick, you've shown some real ambition lately. You certainly went for the throat on this Alley Girl situation, and that's something we need here at Rhipauff Records. It seems that as a direct result of your employment here, things have come to a head, through your ability to cut through some of the issues holding us down. Your recent decisions have shown real resolve and achieved immediate results. That's why I'm promoting you to Assistant Executive in charge of Special Operations. I'd like to give you manus liberi, but please understand that if results change we may be forced to...reevaluate even your early decisions." Slick was too deserving of his own name to miss the poignancy with which "throat," "head," and "cut through" were said. This was a good deal, and he was in a position where he'd have said yes to even a terrible one. Dastard deserved his name, too.

Slick shook Dastard's offered hand. "Sir, I believe we can work together here. I'll take everything you've just said straight to heart." As he pranced out through the opaque glass doors, he added to himself "yours, of course." Now that Lee Dastard was firmly on his experiment list, the day truly couldn't get any better.