“You should have a look out the front window, sir.”
Rupert smiled as he swiveled his chair towards the floor-to-ceiling glass. He loved being called ‘sir,’ especially by one of the Three Marketeers. “Which one is she?” he thought as he gazed at the 27th floor windows straight ahead of him on the other side of 42nd Street. “Maybe she’s Alice.”
The view looked spectacular, just like any other day. “Well, it’s very nice, Alice,” Rupert said. “Should I look at anything in particular?”
“Sorry, sir, but I’m Janet,” she said. “Alice is already down at the lobby with our security guards.”
Rupert sat up suddenly. “Guards?” he asked. “Why?” He put his head against the window glass and peered down towards the street. “Augh!” he shouted as he jumped back. “There’s a missile pointing up at me!”
“Yes, and it has our logo for HoriXentalBop on it.”
Rupert glared at her. “Is this your idea of a marketing campaign? Or was this Alice’s bright idea? Or – who’s the third one of you?”
“Malisma, sir.” Janet coughed and said. “That is not our idea or our missile. No one seems to know why it’s there and why it is advertizing one of our drugs.”
The phone on Rupert’s desk rang. Rupert and Janet watched it ring a couple times. “What is that thing and why does it make that annoying noise?” Janet asked.
Rupert snapped awake. “Oh, yeah, right. It’s a landline phone, I forgot.” He picked up and dropped the handset. He fumbled for a while, then pressed a green button on the phone.
A loud background of car horns and shouting rushed from the speakerphone. “Hello?” said an authoritative voice. “Am I speaking to Mr. Rupert Madasheck?”
Rupert leaned forward and said, “Yes, Chief, this is Rupert. Over.”
“Um, sir, this isn’t a walkie talkie,” the Chief said. “You don’t need to say ‘over’ any more.” More shouting spewed out of the speakerphone. “Sir, we have some assclown here who wants me to inspect this missile he just parked in front of our lobby.”
“What?” Rupert asked. “Why? Alice here tells me it’s not ours.”
“Janet, not Alice,” Janet said. “Alice is down there.”
“Janet. Whatever. Not our missile. What’s going on down there?”
More incoherent voices and a loud rustling of papers rattled through the speakerphone. “He just gave me this folder with his driver’s license and passport and stuff,” the Chief said.
“In case you need to contact me,” a stranger’s voice broke in.
“Back off, clown!” the Chief said. “Sir, I called for the corporate attorney and she just showed up.”
“Should I come down there?” Rupert asked.
“No!” the Chief shouted. “Do not come down here.” Rupert’s office started to shake as a chopping sound filled the air.
“First news helicopter incoming,” Janet said as it loomed large in Rupert’s window.
“Duck!” Rupert shouted as he dove under his desk.
“Relax, sir,” Janet shouted above the roar. “It won’t crash into the building.”
“The cameras!” Rupert shot back. Janet ducked under the desk with him. “Oh, this is cozy,” Rupert said as they rubbed shoulders. A blinding flash filled the office. Rupert cowered. “Oh, no, cameras. Maybelle doesn’t need my photo on the front page. Again.”
A female voice shouted through the speakerphone but Rupert could not understand it over the helicopter’s roar. There were several shouts from different voices, then the noise died down a few dozen decibels. “What?” the Chief said. “She’s Melvyn Weiss in lipstick?”
The helicopter veered away from Rupert’s office window and the speakerphone calmed down to a low background hiss. The Chief said, “That assclown said he was their ‘Chief Fun Officer.’ And he called our attorney here – who’s Melvyn Weiss?” 
“Rupert? This is Sosumi Ciyuencourt. I made that guy take his missile out of here and we will take legal action to get our HoriXentalBop logo expunged from all of their materials.”
Rupert crawled out from under his desk. “What materials?”
“Planes, tanks, missiles, military hardware,” Sosumi said. “He was planning to drive around Manhattan next week with this massive phallic symbol and distribute free condoms. Disgusting. I already got an email from him about all the free publicity for us. But that’s not the worst of it.” Sosumi took a deep breath. “He said I was hot enough to ride his missile next week or even tonight.”
This episode is so outrageous that it couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Um…could it??
Does Cappuccino Pharmaceuticals’ Chief of Security have a specific definition for the word ‘assclown’?
Will landline phones make a comeback in 50 years during another wave of retro nostalgia?
Why is it that Rupert’s desk just happens to have enough room for two people to squeeze together underneath?
Melvyn Weiss in lipstick? Maybe he meant to say ‘Robert Simels’?