Yogurt Monster & Wuhan Xinhengyue Industry
Office Fantasy #2.031
So, two weeks ago—when I first opened my office freezer—I noticed an obscene amount of super-sized yogurt containers.
Super-sized meaning multi-quart—shit maybe even—a gallon sized container of decaying yogurt holders. And these containers were naked; no brand to brag. Rather, these were off-brand, Chinese, disposable yogurt containers ordered from Wuhan Port. Yes, these containers boast a 3/1000 leakage ratio—conforming to (minimal) industry standards: and by ‘boast’ I really mean Chinese for, ‘Haha office worker, your mystery yogurt monster colleague is to blame for inundating the office freezer with smelly yogurt residue. Haha! Stupid American!’
Every time I imagine this voice I suddenly become OK with Obama, after a rousing sexual episode with Michelle, just deciding, ‘Fuck it—let’s sink China’s first aircraft carrier and see what those bitches do about it.’
But really, most my times goes to how I would solve the problem of the Yogurt Monster.
I’d fly to China, depleting whatever funds I have left after years of academic and professional under-performance. I track down the the CEO and Board of Directors for Wuhan Xinhengyue Industry and Trade Co. Ltd. I’d hold them hostage, demanding as ransom all their corporate holdings (transferred nice pyramid-shaped clusters of crisp American greenbacks). After being delivered, I’d take particular joy in returning the stare of these unctuous foreigners now regretting their jokes about American pussy-footedness and accessing whether Karma, Buddha or (lack of) psychotropic medication is to blame for their predicament.
But they need not worry. I’ll simply arrange these not-doomed corporatists around their money (read: China’s temporary allotment of capital funds for citizen use and enlightenment), and set it ablaze. This won’t be as stylistic as Heath Ledger’s turn in ‘The Dark Night’, but it will cause my hostages all to think what the fuck is giong to happen next. Naturally, they’ll most likely adopt a Chinese syntactical structure and diction.
But, they’d be missing the the story. For as a walk out to a nice parade of Chinese soldiers, knowing that I probably stopped from U.S. under-secretary of state from under-performing at their job (or just never-ending-series of blackberry rings-triggered migraine), the real event would be happening a few yards over.
There, in a building storing Xinhengyue Industry’s largest inventory (because those couldn’t be liquidated on my demanding ransom schedule) would be a bomb. And next to that bomb would be a chair.
And on that chair, tied up, would be the yogurt monster.
