Corporate Games

Melvin the Fish Piece

One day while simmering up some fine fish sticks in the woods over a little fire, Dr. Flugerdean noticed something quite remarkable.  One of the fishsticks had a soul.  "Flippity!" cried the Doctor.  He placed this little fish piece in a ziplock bag and put the tartar sauce away for respect.  "I shall name him Melvin!"  Melvin grew to be a fine fish piece.  He made his dad proud.  "Dad, look!  I am delicious!" Melvin screamed as he bit off a piece of himself.  It was a wonder, each bite the boy took would grow right back.  It was actually pretty sweet.  One day the family cat ate Melvin, and the Doctor remembered he was drunk.  

Captain Toast-Munch and the S.S. Frolicking Zebra

Toast-Munch, a wayward sparkly captain, set out to sail the coast.  It is amazing what peddling off a handful of crackers can get you these days.  He was Captain  of the "S.S. Frolicking Zebra."  It was named after a beautiful sight the captain had seen in his travels as a boy.  He had dreams and aspirations of being the most threatening pirating ship in the Atlantic.  His crew was notoriously known for their stamina and ferocity.  

Conditions were fierce, as the rickety vessel brought a few compromises.  The hand soaps in the restroom were not moisturizing or cherry-almond scented, the decorative curtains were on the tacky side, and the wooden planks were not properly veneered.  The crew grew rebellious.  They had a secret meeting on the E Deck and discussed what they should do.  "The Captain refuses to issue more dryer sheets and I am getting static," said the strong, burly chested Wallace. "I know Wallace," bantered back Spango the toughest crew member of the ship, "He even threatened to take away room service... something MUST be done.  Captain Munch is gonna pay--the soggy bastard!" Meanwhile, Captain Toast-Munch was playing poker with his pet bird Splickette and munching cigars.  He was oblivious to the fury below deck that was about to unleash itself.  A tornado of teeth and nails set in at the poor Captain.  He was eaten savagely by his own crew members--a mutiny if you will.  They toasted him and munched him--the redundancy was appalling. The did have the decency to put him in a decorative casket courtesy of a Ralph Lauren inspired design.  

Later that year, the ship sailed into an iceberg much like the one the Titanic crashed into only it was much larger and filled with ice.  "Damn it!" cried Butch, "I just finished painting the crown molding on the bough!"  The S.S. Frolicking Zebra met its dismal fate diving angrily into the sea like a swan... never to be seen again.  THE END.

The Aluminum Robot

The aluminum robot was one of a kind.  He was imported from like France or somewhere comparably as swank.  Here is the deal... the robot could do sweet dance moves--like one was even named after him right?  Well, one day the robot pulled a johnny five and started getting ruined by his swaggered ways.  He was reckless, and all the 80s montage magic in the world wasn't going to repair him.  People were all like, hey aluminum robot, I want to use you to wrap my leftovers.  The robot was like shah.  He tried to run but was captured and tortured in a microwave.  The robot was all like wtf, you guys will pay.  He and the microwave teamed up and formed into an intimidating shape, like an optimus prime style hulk or something, only far less green and transforming.  The people cried out in fear and lost out because their leftovers were left unwrapped and never were to be reheated again.  Oh yeah, and the robot totally got chrome rims that were way resilient to like rust and stuff.  For real.  The end. 

The Candy Corn and the Sea Monkey

Once upon a time in a bowl far away stood two lost souls…

"Hey man, how did you get here?" inquired a shiny candy corn of a dried out sea monkey.

"Oh hey, yeah, years ago in this very bowl stood an empire of Sea Monkeys.  We reigned supreme.  In a freak spill accident our civilization was destroyed.  I was salvaged by my freeze dried capabilities.  The others... well, they did not make it."

"Damn, that sucks Mr. Sea Monkey."

"What about you son?  How did you end up in this here bowl?"

"Well, last October, when I was born, my brothers and I were gathered in a bag.  A giant claw ripped open our home and started feeding my brothers to a gluttonous hole.  I was devastated... my family in ruin.  I jumped out of the bag to save my life.  The claw decided to have mercy on me and placed me in this bowl here... with you Sir."

The Sea Monkey and the Candy Corn spent many hours together discussing politics, life, and their mutual enjoyment of old times, good memories, and Led Zeppelin tunes...  like "No Quarter"... man that was a good one. 

So, if you ever come across a bowl with a shiny candy corn and an old shriveled brine shrimp, for real, leave them alone.  They have been through a lot.  Man, do something nice... like you could cook them a tiny piece of steak or something.  I don't know.  But yeah.

Sherlock the Leaf

A piece of green crap laid upon the shoe of the famous Starburg Hutley as he meandered through the park one afternoon.  "Shananagans!" screamed Mr. Hutley.  Why it wasn't crap at all... it was none other than Sherlock the Leaf.  Sherlock had been on a journey from branches afar blowing for hours and distances great.  Mr. Hutley's shoe seemed as nice a resting place as any.  "I hate foliage!" cried out Mr. Hutley.  The leaf grew spiteful and intense. It assumed its leaf strength and summoned bees and other horrible things.  I think there was like even a goat or something.  Mr. Hutley didn't know what hit him, but I am pretty sure it was a forest.  The moral of the story is save a tree.  Word. 

The Adventures of Scotch

Once there was this man, he was about 12 years aged, and his name was Johnny Walker.  They called him "Scotch" for short. His grandfather named him that because the old bastard was a recovering alcoholic.  He had since switched to Tang orange flavored powder he kept in old liquor bottles encouraged by his AA pals. Scotch was brilliant; he spent hours fashioning paper airplanes out of sandals and scrap metal, scuba diving with the locals, and was quite good at lawn decorations (gnomes and the like).  One day Scotch got a wicked paper cut and died.  They cremated him and put him in a Johnny Walker bottle because they were poor, and it seemed as personalized as it could get.  Well, that was cool until Grandpa got thirsty and mixed his grandson with water and stirred.  

Tango the Cricketmaster*

In a passionate land, deep in a field of glory far off somewhere really grand where trumpets of bronze blasted and kings supped on fine hams and barley juices, there was a kingdom of crickets.  They were led by the benevolent Tango.  Tango was by irony the ambigulously gay cricket, but no one questioned the leader.  Anyway, Tango shimmied to his crowds one day for the daily formal address.  "Here ye Cricketh of Cricketmania.  I would totally like to invite you to the cricket featht thith evening.  It will be delithiouth guyth... I am telling you." He spoke with fervor and elegance as his left cricket hand-limbs rested upon his hips. " We will have thalmon and fine juiceth in which to bid our endulgentheth upon."  The other crickets were pretty tired from building Tango's new castle adorned with pink bricks, fountains, and bodacious lace.  They also hated salmon.  It was Tango's favorite.  Ever since he found out how to work the human phone next door, he was always ordering salmon take-out.  It got really old.  The other crickets decided enough was enough.  They salted Tango and hid him in a bag of sunflower seeds.  Needless to say, no one ate thalmon that night or for any night to come.

*note:   This story was actually inspired by true events.  My brother and I were rocking out a bag of sunflower seeds one afternoon when we came across a salted cricket head in the bag.  True story.

Anthony the Armless Wonder

"Is it me, or when you open peanut butter jars, does it always smear across your face like a useless paste?" inquired the youthful Anthony.  "Well Anthony, I am afraid you are just pretending again that you have arms," responded his physical therapist.  "Work with me here son.  We've already had this talk--you need to cope with the reality that you created.  Other little boys wouldn't have thought to try to stop a snack truck with their arms.  That was your choice my boy."  Anthony looked down in shame with his one eye.  (That was from another daring accident in which he stared down a mother bird.)  "I just really wanted to stop the truck... I love delicious snack, and I like to feel like I can do anything, like a super hero," said the young boy.  "I wish I could encourage you and tell you to make the most of life, but lets face it, you're eight and not even smart enough to tie your shoes let alone the fact that you don’t have the arms to do it anyway.  I mean, when you make progress in here, I cant even high five you."  With this, the boy grew engulfed with a secret inner-fury.  He ran out of his therapist's office and stopped the next car he could see with his legs and torso.  Needless to say, the car did stop however, Anthony, the one-eyed, armless boy stopped too.  The boy was smeared across the way like a useless paste.