Beware of Pyramids, my son. No, Not the Ones at Giza, You Idiot! What Harm Did Large Structures Ever Do to Anyone?

And now we present to you a very special entry for Mike’s F’d Up Journey Sans Frontières. It’s a tale that’s ‘based on a true story’. For legal reasons we have to say that ‘based on a true story’ does not mean that the following events happened in the way they are described below. Nor does it imply that they happened at all. In fact, ‘based on a true story’ could imply that I saw a man with a weird hat chewing some gum and I constructed a whole story that just happens to include that guy with the gum and suddenly it’s ‘based on a true story’. And now, on with the story. Here’s our first attempt at being socially relevant.

Once upon a time (Editor’s note: cliché opening used for irony or perhaps it was just laziness), there was a young man named Brick. He was a kind, creative fellow and had friends and loved ones who really cared about him. But Brick had a problem, a terrible problem, a shame that haunted him and made him the target of ridicule and constant lecturing. He didn’t have a job. The horror! All Brick wanted to do was work on his art in peace but that made him a pariah amongst his more successful peers. Even the town drunk laughed at Brick for even he had a job in the city council. Things were looking pretty bleak for poor Brick.

One day,  Brick sat on his leather chair with a notepad writing dialogue for his novel. As he took a sip of clean, crisp and refreshing Poland Spring bottled water (Editor’s note: blatant product placement to pay the hypothetical bills and hypothetical rent for the hypothetical MFUJSF offices), he noticed he had a message from his old classmate, Simon Ramses on Instant Messenger.

“Hey, Brick,” said Simon in text so innocuous and unexpected. “How are you, man?”

“Hey, Simon. I’m ok, dude. How have you been?”

And before he got a response to his polite chit-chat, Simon asked the question Brick dreaded most.

“Are you working?”

Distraught and ashamed of his status as a worthless bum, a barnacle of society, Brick replied with a solemn ‘no’.

Instead of jumping to judgment, Simon began making Brick an offer. He said that not only was he have a great job, but he was also looking for more people to work there as well. Brick asked how this could be? He thought all the jobs in the world had been taken or reserved for people of a higher class than he, like the town drunk. Simon assured him that his company was expanding and his boss asked him to find people who were fresh, new and ready for such an opportunity. But wait, Brick thought. I have no financial experience. I’m but a simple artist, the lowliest of scum on the face of the earth. No problem, Simon assured him. People skills were all that was necessary. Perhaps it was the allure of the offer, the amount of times those around him nagged him to stop being a parasite and get a job or maybe the oatmeal he had eaten for breakfast had gone bad but Brick agreed to attend the interview.

“By the way,” Brick finally asked, “what’s the name of the company?”

There was a brief pause accentuated by the swelling of an orchestra in Brick’s imagination; blood rushed to his head, making him nervous.

“Pyramidica” was the response. (Editor’s note: Name of company changed to protect the corrupt from libel. Also, we wanted to make it a pun, and an obvious one at that.”

Brick was ecstatic. With jubilant euphoria so hyperbolic that it made him see brand new colors beyond ROYGBIV, he went around and told everyone that he finally had a job interview, for a major company no less. His friends rejoiced. People cheered in the streets as he walked past them. No longer would they have to pity or look down on this sad wretch, this artist. He was now going to be another productive part of the employment machine and that made them happy inside. Some thought it was peculiar that he didn’t know that many details about the job or Simon’s job for that matter. Brick argued with them with supreme righteousness.

“Simon is my friend. He would never do me any harm. How could he? I’m Brick, the Protagonist.”

And so he toiled away at his résumé, looted his closet for a decent pair of slacks, a shirt and a blazer and studied articles on proper interview technique written in English, Spanish and Linear B. With a grin and a prayer, Brick ran from his home to the subway station. On the train, Brick rocked out to Pink Floyd and Кино and could not care less about the strangers laughing at him. On the way out of the train, he passed by a man with a pyramid shaped hat chewing some gum. (Editor’s note: red herring. No, not the fish!)

With a mighty strut, Brick walked out of the station and headed towards the Bad Joker Hotel, the place Simon had told him to go to. Why anyone would schedule a job interview after 7:00 PM at a hotel was something he should have  given some thought but he didn’t. Why? He was still busy humming the bass line from Money. The building was old, the bricks were anemic and the windows cast no reflection. Yes, the building defied the laws of science and Brick still walked in anyway. What a sharp kid, huh? Oh brother…

The lobby reeked of cigarettes and despair. Brick walked up to the front desk. The guy behind the counter was closer to 100 than 90 in years and was slumped forward.

“Hey Brah”, Brick said, suddenly adopting the accent and mannerisms of a seventies California surfer (Editor’s note: which is funny because he’d never been to California, let alone live in the 70’s and had never stepped foot in a natural body of water). “Could you tell me where I might find the Pyramidica meeting?”

 Wheezing and snorting, the old codger looked at Brick. “Humph” he said. “Another one. Room 306, kid.”

“Bitchin’! Thanks, brah.”

Before Brick was completely out of hearing distance, the old man said “Be careful kid. Selling insurance…it’s not as easy as you think. Beware the pyramid…Beware!!!!”

The worn out wallpaper and dingy carpets didn’t scare Brick away as he climbed up to the third floor. He reached a large metal door with the numbers 306 carved in large stone. “Don’t go in there!” is what the readers may be saying, but of course, Brick can’t hear you. He’s a character in a story and this is all written in the past tense so it already happened. Sorry. Get a soda and some popcorn and enjoy. We’ll wait. Good, you’re back. Oh, you forgot the popcorn. Go back and get it. Are you all set? Oh c’mon! You’re making a mess. Pull yourself together, reader! Ok. Let’s continue. Where were we? Where do we go? Where do we go now? Where do we go? Sweet Child O’miiiiiiine? Sorry.

The room was large and dark. There was a ring of light a few yards ahead but that was it. He could see twenty other potentials waiting inside there. He sat down next to them on the bench and a supervisor from Pyramidica greeted them. Some other employees stood behind him like soldiers behind their general. One of them was Simon. He looked thinner and paler than Brick remembered.

“Welcome to Pyramidica” said the supervisor in a strong baritone. He was a formidable looking fellow. He stood over six feet tall with a hairline to die for and wore dark silks. A strange aura surrounded him as he spoke and Brick could not help but listen as ridiculously gorgeous women stood at either side of the supervisor. Their energy was just as intoxicating as the supervisors voice was to listen to. He spoke of many things. He pulled at the heart strings. He alluded to freedom and entrepreneurship as the last frontier, the only way to achieve greatness in this world. In a hazy trance, Brick sat in the circle of light in the room full of darkness. He could not see anything beyond the rim of light but could feel something beyond it. Something incredible. Powerful. Terrifying.

With the presentation over, Brick was left with feelings of desire that he could not control. The allure of the women in business casual clothing was strong but it was something deeper. The promise of greatness burrowed inside his mind and soul and took root. Ambition and coveting were now all he could think about. Out of nowhere, Simon appeared next to Brick and he saw that all the other potentials had been conveniently removed from the area to intensify this scene. (Editor’s note: Deus ex machina…we think. Sorry. We were just hired off the street with no real training but we’re making good money. Ask us how we did it and you can do it too.)

“Are you ready…to sell insurance?” he asked, hunger in his eyes

A shriek came from the other side of the room and caused Brick’s blood to run cold and snap out of his trance. He ran past Simon to investigate and bumped into something ,a large soft wall. He fell backwards. The lights turned on and he finally got a glimpse at the pyramid he had heard of. Layers upon layers of bodies were stacked on top of one another. The ones on the bottom were constantly trying to reach out and grab someone, including Brick, but always failed and thus remained at the bottom for good. The people above them had their fangs around the necks of those below, growing fat off of them. The higher one looked up the pyramid, the fatter the bodies got and on top was the supervisor, sucking upon the life energy of everyone beneath him.

Simon appeared next to Brick once again, laughing. “You can be a part of something great like this too. You just need to pay your dues.”

“I thought you dealt with life insurance.”

“We ensure our lives are better than those below us. Join us.”

Brick looked up and saw the supervisor wipe the froth from his lips and begin to chant. Soon all the bodies opened their mouths and joined in, their voices echoing through Brick’s entire being.  “All our lives we sweat and save, building for a shallow grave. Must be something else we say. Somehow to defend this place. Everything must be this way…”

The pyramid pulsed with power, a dark heart circulating misery, and though intimidation froze Brick in place for a moment, fear of failure sealed his doom.

As Simon approached, fangs emerging, ready to seal the deal, Brick murmured “The soft parade has now begun” and he was assimilated into the pyramid. No more would he be alone in his misery. His malaise was now legion. "There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt".

I hope you kiddies learned the valuable lesson from this story: never drink expired milk!