Jon Wesick<\/p>\n
No one knew what the meeting was about, not the employees sitting on folding chairs ten columns wide by twelve deep, nor Donna from HR who\u2019d set the chairs out. Despite her colorful scarf, the scene in the warehouse was drab\u2014concrete floor, cinderblock walls, and a lonely podium made of the same gray metal as the doors.<\/p>\n
Punctual as always, CEO Derek \u201cChainsaw\u201d McIntyre started the meeting precisely at 8:30. He had red hair, pockmarked skin that always seemed sunburned, and a neatly groomed mustache. His body was trim and fit as only those of people who spend hours at the gym are although anyone who knew him would doubt he enjoyed the exercise.<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t beat around the bush.\u201d The microphone squealed with feedback and McIntyre turned it slightly. \u201cIs that better? As you know, business hasn\u2019t been good for several years. Back at corporate we\u2019ve examined the numbers and we just can\u2019t keep going this way. We\u2019ve decided to close the plant.\u201d<\/p>\n
The audience erupted with murmurs.<\/p>\n
\u201cHold on.\u201d McIntyre held up a hand for silence. \u201cIn recognition of your loyalty the board is going to provide each of you one week\u2019s pay for every year you\u2019ve worked as severance.\u201d<\/p>\n
A crash came from overhead and broken glass clattered on the floor. Heads rose to see a man with a chin the size of a bulldozer rappel from the broken skylight. Despite his flashy entrance he dressed in business casual, khakis and a polo shirt monogrammed with an M. Seconds after touchdown, he released the nylon climbing rope, dashed to the microphone, and grabbed the CEO in a headlock.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Middle-Class Man here to single-handedly battle the systemic problems contributing the economic decline of the American middle class. You\u2019d better hire all these workers back or you\u2019re going to get it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGoing to get what?\u201d McIntyre asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m going to give you noogies so severe that you\u2019ll need a bigger hat size.\u201d Middle-Class Man moved his giant fist toward McIntyre\u2019s scalp.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s\u2026\u201d McIntyre struggled in Middle-Class Man\u2019s grip. \u201cIt\u2019s all the federal regulations that are killing us. I can\u2019t hire them back unless you get OHSA and the EPA off my back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEPA huh?\u201d Middle-Class Man let McIntyre go. \u201cVery well, I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Flanked by aids lugging briefcases and laptop computers, EPA Administrator Katie Barstaff exited the House Rayburn Office Building onto Independence Avenue to wait for her limo. After a frustrating meeting with the congressman from West Virginia, all she wanted was to return to her office, take off her heels, and pour herself a big glass of the Kentucky bourbon she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk.<\/p>\n
A lavender SUV cut across two lanes of traffic and screeched to a halt in front of her. Shocked by the driver\u2019s recklessness Administrator Barstaff didn\u2019t realize the danger until it was too late. Before she knew it, a man in a polo shirt got out, knocked down her aids, and grabbed her in a headlock. Within seconds she was prisoner in the backseat of the SUV as it sped away. Stranger still a gorilla was driving.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Middle-Class Man here to single-handedly battle the systemic problems contributing the economic decline of the American middle class.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, who\u2019s the monkey?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s Numb Chumsky. I liberated him from the Yerkes Primate Research Center after some psychologists taught him to speak using American Sign Language.\u201d<\/p>\n
As if on cue Chumsky grunted and gestured.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s he saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe says the I-95 is backed up and that he wants a banana but I didn\u2019t bring you here to talk about language acquisition in primates.\u201d Middle-Class Man held up his fist. \u201cIf you don\u2019t eliminate your job-killing regulations, I\u2019m going to give you such a powerful set of noogies that you\u2019ll regret it!\u201d<\/p>\n
Derek \u201cChainsaw\u201d McIntyre was late. Middle-Class Man stood outside the corporate headquarters looking at a parking lot that was empty except for a BMW and a green-skinned man digging holes in the asphalt with a jackhammer. Middle-Class Man checked his watch. It was 6:30. With nothing better to do he watched the man work. After completing each hole, the green man planted a sapling, added potting soil, and sprinkled it with water. Then he began digging another hole in a seemingly random spot.<\/p>\n
Around 7:00 McIntyre emerged from the office.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. McIntyre, sir!\u201d Middle-Class Man took a deep breath. \u201cJust smell that sulfur dioxide! As you can tell, I took care of the EPA. Now how about reopening the factory and hiring back those laid-off workers?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWish I could help but I can\u2019t compete with all that cheap labor in China.\u201d McIntyre took out his keys and walked to his BMW.<\/p>\n
\u201cChina, huh? I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d As he was leaving, Middle-Class Man asked the green man, \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Global-Warming Man here to single-handedly put an end to climate change.\u201d<\/p>\n
Security at the Chinese Communist Party\u2019s compound at Zhongnanhai was among the best in the world. Guards chosen from the People\u2019s Liberation Army\u2019s elite October First Division patrolled the perimeter and no expense was spared equipping the facility with advanced electronic surveillance. However, all this manpower and technology was no match for a man armed with American know-how and a pair of Craftsman wire cutters from Sears.<\/p>\n
After his kidnapping, Chinese leader Hu Jintao woke to find his wrists secured to the metal chair he sat in. He screamed for help.<\/p>\n
\u201cYell all you want to, Hu Jintao.\u201d Middle-Class Man stepped out of the shadows. \u201cNo one can hear you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d Hu Jintao rotated his head and rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles in his sore neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Middle-Class Man here to single-handedly battle the systemic problems contributing the economic decline of the American middle class.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want from me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I want?\u201d Middle-Class Man stepped behind the Chinese leader, wrapped a forearm around his neck, and vigorously rubbed his scalp with the knuckles of his free hand. \u201cDon\u2019t play games with me, Hu Jintao! Stop keeping your currency artificially low, raise your wages and environmental standards to U.S. levels, and start enforcing copyright protections or else you\u2019ll be sorry!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re\u2026 you\u2019re asking me to commit economic suicide. If I did that all our jobs would go to Vietnam or Burma.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBurma, huh? I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
For anyone who\u2019s penetrated security at Zhongnanhai, breaking into a Russian missile silo is a snap as two officers of the Strategic Rocket Forces found on returning to the control room after their morning vodka and caviar break. Both were quickly subdued with powerful headlocks and then handcuffed by a man in a polo shirt and a silverback gorilla.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s see.\u201d Middle-Class Man examined the control panel and began turning dials. \u201cHere we go. Sixteen degrees forty-eight minutes north, ninety degrees nine minutes east.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho\u2019s the monkey?\u201d a Russian asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s Numb Chumsky. He speaks sign language.\u201d<\/p>\n
The gorilla grunted and gestured.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s he saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s asking whether it\u2019s pronounced Rangoon or Yangon and he wants a banana.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chumsky made more gestures.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow he says ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, liftoff!\u201d Middle-Class Man punched a red button and the control room shook as the ICBM went on its way.<\/p>\n
On his second visit to Zhongnanhai, Middle-Class Man found Hu Jintao peeking out of the turret hatch of a T-99 battle tank. Instead of the usual suit and tie the Chinese leader was wearing a leather helmet and olive-drab fatigues.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Hu Jintao, I took care of Burma. Now how about raising those Chinese wages?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cScrew you Yankee Middle-Class Man! We like our economy the way it is!\u201d<\/p>\n
Motors whirred as the turret turned and the tank\u2019s 125mm cannon lowered to point directly at Middle-Class Man.<\/p>\n
\u201cFire!\u201d yelled Hu Jintao.<\/p>\n
Fortunately for Middle-Class Man his Eddie Bauer Kevlar polo shirt protected him from the blast. After the debacle at Zhongnanhai he retreated to his secret lair in Muncie, Indiana to plan a new economic strategy.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to find something we can sell to the Chinese.\u201d Middle-Class Man set a bowl of microwave popcorn on the table in front of Numb Chumski.<\/p>\n
Chumski stood up, pointed at the world map, and gestured.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that, Chumski? Sell them opium. That\u2019s a splendid idea! I wonder why no one has ever thought of that before.\u201d<\/p>\n
In a greenhouse, the size of a football field, workers in polo shirts scurried about examining poppies for signs of insects and disease, checking mineral levels in hydroponic fluid, and repairing electronic equipment.<\/p>\n
\u201cQuite an impressive operation you have here,\u201d Global-Warming Man said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd we\u2019re well on our way to becoming carbon neutral.\u201d Middle-Class Man pointed to the roof. \u201cDuring the day solar cells power the pumps and charge the batteries they run off at night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you growing, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re growing opium to sell to China.\u201d Middle-Class Man crossed his arms over his chest in satisfaction.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut that\u2019s illegal!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt can\u2019t be illegal! It\u2019s all natural!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf the DEA catches me again, they\u2019ll put me away for thirty years.\u201d Global-Warming Man dashed toward the exit.<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn government bureaucrats!\u201d Middle-Class Man raised his arms over his head and waved. \u201cAttention everyone. Gather round.\u201d The workers formed a circle. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I\u2019m going to have to lay you off.\u201d<\/p>\n
The workers dropped their tools and started toward the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I\u2019m going to need your polo shirts back,\u201d Middle-Class Man added.<\/p>\n
Chumsky the gorilla stood from the computer control station and rested a hand on his mentor\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid that means you too, Chumsky.\u201d<\/p>\n
The gorilla hung his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cTry to think of the bright side,\u201d Middle-Class Man said. \u201cIt\u2019s the creative destruction that\u2019s the engine of American competitiveness.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chumsky gestured.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course you can use me as a reference.\u201d<\/p>\n
The gorilla began removing his shirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cAw, what the hell. You can keep the shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n
With nothing better to do Middle-Class Man went to the park and watched a pickup basketball game. As always his sympathy was with the underdog, so instead of concentrating on the dribbles, dunks, and fast breaks, he paid attention to a man in a yellow jersey sitting on the sidelines.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy aren\u2019t you playing?\u201d Middle-Class Man asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cBad knee. Doctor says I need surgery but I don\u2019t have health insurance.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKnee surgery, huh?\u201d Middle-Class Man grabbed the injured man in a headlock and using the pressure of his forearm against the carotid artery quickly rendered him unconscious.<\/p>\n
Seeing the scuffle, the basketball players surrounded them.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you waiting for? Can\u2019t you see he needs knee surgery? You!\u201d Middle-Class Man pointed at a bald man wearing a headband. \u201cBring me some rubbing alcohol and a kitchen knife.\u201d<\/p>\n
Host of the Gelato Poetry Series, instigator of the San Diego Poetry Un-Slam, and an editor of the San Diego Poetry Annual<\/em>, JON WESICK <\/strong>has published more than sixty short stories in journals such as The Berkeley Fiction Review,<\/em> Space and Time, Zahir, Tales of the Talisman, Blazing Adventures,<\/em> and Metal Scratches.<\/em> He has also published over two hundred fifty poems. Jon has a Ph.D. in physics and is a longtime student of Buddhism and the martial arts. One of his poems won second place in the 2007 African American Writers and Artists contest.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Jon Wesick No one knew what the meeting was about, not the employees sitting on folding chairs ten columns wide by twelve deep, nor Donna from HR who\u2019d set the chairs out. Despite her colorful scarf, the scene in the … Continue reading