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Consultants Advise $400 Hour And Cocaine Habit

Scoop is publishing satirical articles from the Babylon Express newspaper. Those easily offended and not often amused should avoid this content. See authors note at the end of this article for more information about the Babylon Express.

The editor writes: Hello, and welcome to a Very Special Story of The Babylon Express. Drug abuse is no joke. Last year in New Zeal Inc. over 925 000 people experimented with some form of illegal narcotic, and of those 925 000, a staggering two died. It is chilling statistics such as these that we as a society can no longer afford to ignore, which is why we are proud to bring you this Very Special Story, dedicated to a Very Special Girl named Lisa...

Consultants Advise Getting Paid $400 An Hour And Cocaine Habit

A leaked copy of a review paper supplied to the Ministry of Methodology by a private consultancy firm has caused outrage among MP’s from all parties for its conclusion that Ministry employees would most likely raise productivity and bring “a new level of innovation and enthusiasm” to their jobs if they were paid $400 an hour and developed cocaine addictions.

The paper, originally commissioned to review Ministry staff performance and forward recommendations regarding increased staff productivity and employee retention, has been sent to a Review Committee as Minister’s grapple with the possible implications of a fully coked-out-of-their-tiny-minds staff.

Prime Minister Helen Clurk has also entered the fray, cutting down Orcs with righteous vengeance as she seeks to gain control of the power of the One Ring.

The company who prepared the paper, Scabwelt Consultancy International, defended the conclusions their team had reached, saying that being hideously overpaid and speeding like a mirror-happy motherfucker while producing work with absolutely no social worth whatsoever had a long track-record of success in numerous fields, citing consultancy, public relations, and advertising as prime examples.

“It’s like…it’s like… Ok. See, say I’m getting paid 400 bucks an hour right?” elaborated Scabwelt spokesperson Melvin Bentass. “Well I am getting paid 400 bucks an hour, but – right – just say right, just say that for argument’s sake ok that I’m getting paid 400 bucks an hour. Or something. And just ignore the fact that I am actually getting paid $400 bucks an hour. Ok? Now if I wasn’t getting paid that 400 bucks…say I was only getting paid…I dunno – 200 bucks an hour. Then it’s like I’d be out of pocket 200 bucks. And that’s less coke for me. So now maybe you see where we’re coming from. It’s not as – Holy shit. Check out that guy…hey sorry, excuse me man, this a private –”

Bentass was here seized violently by what appeared to be a Lonesome Drifter exacting revenge from the pushers selling their filthy wares to schoolkids in the neighbourhood where he was raised. After ramming the Scabwelt spokepserson’s head through the wall a number of times and punching him back into his seat, the Drifter rifled Bentasses desk until found he what looked to be 2 kees of fine white powder. Eyeing Bentass menacingly, he took a sniff.

“Angel dust. PCP. You ever seen what this stuff does to kids?”

Bentass whimpered as the Drifter pulled a large pistol from his tight blue jeans and mounted the desk, the pistol aimed down at the consultant’s sweat-covered forehead.

“You know why I’m here don’t you Melvin…I am the one you’ve been expecting, the gnawing core of dread in your heart, the banging door in the darkened distance. I am your Angel of Death Melvin, and I have come for you. You like drugs don’t you Melvin?”

“I…I…yes…no…I…it was an accident! I never meant it to happen! Please…!

“SHE WAS ONLY EIGHT YEARS OLD!” roared the Drifter as Bentass broke into terrified sobs. The Drifter looked down disgust and kicked the bag with the tip of his snakeskin boots.

“Snort it.” He said. Bentass looked up.

“Wh-what? All of it…but that’d kill –“
“SNORT IT!” roared the Drifter again, touching the muzzle of his pistol to Bentasses head. The terrified Assistant Executive of Public Relations and Advertising for Scabwelt Consultancy International thrust his face into the bag and began to inhale the white powder.

“Eat it” came the deadly calm voice of the renegade avenger. Bentass ate. Within minutes he was overcome by violent convulsions. He lurched coughing from the chair, blood streaming from his mouth. The end came quickly as the consultant’s body movements degenerated into a series of spasmodic twitches before slumping motionless to the floor.

The Lonesome Drifter looked upon the corpse impassively, his only satisfaction knowing the children in the neighbourhood would now be safe.

“May God hold you fast, dearest Lisa.” he whispered. Then his head cocked to one side.

“A Little Mother is in distress!” he exclaimed. “I may be too late!”

The Drifter leapt from the table onto his Harley parked outside the office door. With one sharp kick the engine roared into life and he was gone as he quickly as he had arrived.

In the office the only sound to be heard was the solitary buzzing of a fly eager to lay in the congealing blood of the fresh corpse on the floor. Melvin Bentass had consulted for the last time.

- The Babylon Express is a satirical newspaper published randomly in Wellington. Copies are so far only available in local shops whose proprietors haven't got sticks up their arses. Those interested in acquiring previous or upcoming copies should contact the editor at Contributions and suggestions are always very welcome. Cheers.

© Scoop Media

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