Movers and Shakers

Predator Press

[LOBO]

As previously discussed in a post named Zen, Ethan owns a small orphanage in Newark.

I manage it.

... As successful entrepreneurs, we feel it's important to give back to the community.

So when we were invited to the awards ceremony to celebrate our nomination for "Most Profitable Orphanage of the Year" we thought Oh cool, a free meal!


***


Tricking me to get there an hour before the food was served made me cranky. I mean I'm already a notable benefit to the community and enormous asset to the Nation; there's no need to drag me out to some ceremony where billionaire hot chicks can just plot and plan for me to be their "arm candy" like I'm just some piece of meat. I don't need affirmation, thank you; I get enormous satisfaction out just simply helping out those poor kids and turning out an untaxable $420,000 in annual profit.

Once inside, my ears were instantly assaulted by a live samba band in the lobby, afflicting the dense crowd of aristocrats with a horrific, offbeat stabbing sound.

--The maraca player was either drunk, or a completely ill-timed incompetent idiot.

Instantly grabbing a champaign bottle by the neck, I shatter it on a nearby marble statue and rush the stage so I can plunge the glistening, jagged edges deeply into the bastards throat. "You butcher!" I scream. You don't shake maracas, you blend maracas!"

While security held me back at first, the crowd had already turned on the inept hack; I was soon rushed up to try and rescue the performance. The lead singer tried to hand me his beastly maracas, and I almost reflexively spat on them. It was then I opened my briefcase and cried into the microphones, "Behold!"

As the lead singer's eyes adjusted to the glowing light, his jaw dropped.

I unsecured my maracas from the inside of the case.

They are hand carved from genuine elephant tusk ivory, inlaid in gold, and are filled with naturally mummified panda embryos.

... Halfway through 'Copa Cabana', members of the audience were weeping.

Comments

Ah, just the description of your maraca playing makes my eyes moist. I don't know where you obtained your maracas, or through which clandestine runner, but they are certainly safe in such competent hands.
I must say, I remain mesmerised by the vision of you working your maracas - into a frenzy, no less.

I shall have to retire with a glass of shiraz now to clear my head and steady my mmmaraca-ed nerves.

x
Anonymous said…
Who desecrated the naturally mummified pandas for their embryos? Sounds like a long story to me.....

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