[QUOTE=heperd;2622874]Thanks man I appreciate that. Very appealing to haters is just what im going for.
Actually though there is nothing funny about it. Im very serious about defending and promoting, after all its what I get paid to do. Every morning i log onto the video conference with Erwin. Me and the dozens of other Creed employees/basenotes members go over the talking points for the day. We are told to repeat certain phrases over and over- “lasts 12 hours”, “top quality natural ingredients”, “no panties”. Eventually these become linked in readers minds.
Erwin stands in front of a chalk board and scribbles things about Napoleon and Elizabeth the Firsts gloves and caliphates…..[/QUOTE]
…and then I realized that, theoretically, there must actually be a universe where heperd’s joke is true…
“He said NO PANTIES!“
Every CREED geek in the video conference jumped back in their seat, as Fraulein Sitzenpinkler pounded the desk with her fist. Ah, the Fraulein! Who didn’t love it when she was on a roll? She was so extraordinarily hot when she was in her domineering mode. I had half a mind to egg her on a bit. Alas, somebody beat me to it, even if unintentionally.
“B-b-but, what if…. if… if…..”
“What if they refuse?”
The poor bastard. I couldn’t help but do a face-palm.
“Zo……. You are telling me that your….. your…..”
“Yes. Your…..’girlfriend’….. refuses to accommodate your job requirements?”
“Well, she doesn’t like it. She….. refuses. Not to. I mean to not. To not wear them. In public.”
“Are you telling this group that you cannot….. persuade…… your….. ‘girlfriend’….. to not show proper respect for your employer?”
“It’s not that. I mean. Well. Now that you put it that way.”
“You know. Never mind. I’ll deal with it.”
“You must be firm with her. When you wear CREED in public, you are telling the world about the product. When you wear Bois du Catalunya, she should of course wear undergarments. Nothing – NOTHING – higher than knee-length dresses. No pants. Ever. But when you wear Aventaeus, there must be tight clothing and no undergarment lines. She should be proud to be associated with you, as a model of desirable, fertile femininity. You, on the other hand, must be dressed shabbily in proper douchebag style. It is IMPERATIVE that men believe it is only your fragrance which makes her associate with you.”
With every bit of emphasis, she inhaled and stretched her chest toward the camera. At that point, I was ready to bow down before the periodic table and worship silicon for its atomic weight alone. Thankfully, Erwin finished shuffling through his papers, and adjusted his mike. The Fraulein sat back in her chair and wiggled. The show was over. And just in time, too, as I was otherwise in need of a cold shower.
I suppressed a snicker. We certainly didn’t deserve to be called that. But you had to admire a guy who refused to treat anybody else as anything less. So – gent or not – I was all ears.
“You are aware of the recent discovery of a new universe. As always, CREED is keeping an eye on such things. This is apparently a type I universe – meaning that we have both visibility and influence into it, but they have neither visibility nor influence outward. CREED, of course, will almost certainly be permitted to observe and act in accordance with the usual regulations.”
He paused for a moment, and – almost unconsciously – I blurted out the billion dollar question.
“Does CREED exist there?”
I could tell by his smile that the situation was at least that good.
“CREED not only exists there – they are doing remarkably well.”
“Yes. However – there is a problem.”
We waited in silence. Erwin seemed nervous. Finally, I made a palm-up gesture.
“It would appear that we have already influenced them.”
My jaw dropped. Among the gasps around the table, I could hear multiple expletives, simultaneous except for their latency on the net. I blurted again.
“Go on!” Thinking a moment, I added a belated “please”.
Erwin turned and coughed, then cleared his throat.
“Yes. It would appear that their CREED has been using true stories from our universe to sell their products.”
“You mean they’re lying?”
“No. They’re telling the truth. They’re just telling the wrong truth.”
I waved my hands around me like I was directing traffic.
“What? You mean like the people who’ve worn CREED?”
“Yes – exactly. Who the original bespokes were made for. Who wears them now. That sort of thing.”
“Hold on. So you’re saying that they’re lying there, but they’re actually getting it right here?”
“Yes. It’s uncanny. They’re making up stories that are absolutely true here. Napoleon. The gloves of Elizabeth the First. The caliphate. Everything. Our most well-documented history. In fact, everything on display in the CREED wing of the Turin-Burr Museum. But as far as we can tell, these are all either complete fabrications or significant embellishments in their reality.”
I shook my head.
“Good grief. What about President Obama? Still on the team?”
“Oh, yes – she loves Creed. Although – it’s actually a bit more complicated.”
“Well, as long as they keep signing peace treaties in the CREED room. So – could the stories just be some kind of causal drag centered on CREED?”
“That is now our public position. We will provide talking points. However, we actually believe there is a true information leak.”
“Holy Toledo! A natural leak? Fur-reaky.”
“Quite. And it’s rather obvious where it is, too. You will, of course, protect the fact that CREED family members are leaking truth into the other universe.”
“Of course. So – what’s the plan?”
“Once we have permission to move forward, we would like you to influence yourselves in the new universe. We need to patch the leak. You must influence yourselves to counter all history borrowed from this universe.”
“Hold on. So you mean, we influence ourselves in the other universe to deny the stories that the other you is generating?”
“Yes. That’s what we mean.”
“This is complicated.”
“True. This is a job for CREED’s most talented ambassadors. We hope you are up to the task.”
“We’ll do our best. What about consistency?”
“You must tell the truth. Or, rather, the other you must tell the truth.”
“But people don’t want to know the truth about naturals. They want to live in the fairytale world that cheap, highly processed, low-end components have created. Mass-produced fragrances have generated mass-production expectations. They don’t even associate the word ‘crop’ with food anymore.”
“Yes. We realize that this will generate controversy. Although, in the other universe, CREED apparently uses this to great advantage.”
“Yes. They have even used olfactory fatigue and the natural variation of people’s olfactory ability to generate buzz about longevity and ‘bad batches’. You will soon learn that the other you has been repeating a mantra of ‘lasts 12 hours’ about Aventaeus, despite the fact that this is not believed.”
“But I get 24 hours, if you count skin scent. And it lasts for weeks on clothes in the laundry. NOBODY will believe that.”
“Yes. Unfortunate. But our policy must adhere to regulations on inter-universe influence. Truth must prevail.”
“However, that does not prevent us from acting badly here. Fraulein?”
Fraulein Sitzenpinkler leaned up to her microphone, puffed out her chest, and tossed her hair back in the usual way.
“And what did we learn today, my good men? Tell me! Proudly!”
As we shouted in unison, I suppressed a chuckle. Even if Aventaeus was dropping panties in a rather roundabout way, it was still dropping them.
Standing in front of a mirror in my mind’s eye, I studied my tacky Hawaiian shirt and my unshaven neck. With a certain reverence, I put Occam’s razor back into the drawer of the vanity, and closed it gently. I picked up my bottle of Virgin Island Water, and stuffed it into the back pocket of my retired climbing pants. Fraulein Sitzenpinkler, standing next to me with a picnic basket, was watching it all.
“Perfect for a day at the beach!”
I nodded back and smiled, realizing that somewhere, in some universe, it was all true.