THE SALSA DIARIES #2

Monday Marketing Meeting at the Chateaux de la Swine

There’s a time and place for cock

At the Chateaux de la Swine it was time for our daily dose of marketing. A meeting that often descended into chaos as each flamboyant hipster tried to outwit the previous. No idea was a dumb idea but I contest that the Pitbull of Chronic Humping™ may have been one step too far.

Our mission is to turn the world into a waste dump for our cheaply produced Salsa themed products. ‘If it ain’t got the heat then it ain’t got the salsa’. The meeting coincided with our once a month special endurance celebration. Yes, it was ‘Break An Intern Week’®. Seven days of physical and psychological torture for the thrill of destroying young spirits overflowing with optimism. This was the real world and there are no easy rides at the Chateaux (except for Hilda in Accounts Payable).

At the podium stood Smith and Weston. Two young bucks who were yet to break. I hadn’t the faintest idea what their actual names were but was assured that both were aptly titled. Apparently, they went off in your hand Jerry said. I liked Jerry. A loose cannon of a product tester whose ability to smear Salsa on his buttcheeks was legendary.

Smith, the Californian blond, was holding erect a large salsa themed, throbbing cock. And by cock, I mean chicken. And by salsa themed, I mean somebody had taken the time and effort to dye the cock in an unceremonious salsa red. The pungent cock was clearly aggrieved as it wrestled in the firm grip of Smith.

Weston was beaming. He began to talk. I wasn’t pleased. That damn cock was making a mess all over my expensive boardroom carpet. I had it imported from a whorehouse in Eastern Mongolia. The embedded smell alone reeked of a thousand years of cum related debauchery. I scrabbled around in my second drawer trying to find my Silencer.

Weston was now visibly shaking and had started to leave large patches of sweat under each armpit. Jerry meanwhile was fondling his balls under the board table. He knew I was about to make another intern shit his pants.

Just then, the cock broke free and ran head-on at Jerry. Unable to free his hands from his pants, the cock flew at his face, beak armed to peck.

It was going to be a bloody mess…again.

I placed the Silencer on the desk and sat there, gently massaging my forehead as another migraine started to take hold. I wondered if my nemesis Ev Williams ever had days like this. I imagined that even Ev never had to deal with the sight of Janet on all fours probing for a detached eyeball.

Roll on Tuesday.