Red Meat Cures Cancer (10 page)

12

Ground Assault

Two weeks before the scheduled launch of the Torture campaign, the Link insisted I accompany him to the Sisters of the Sorrowful Mother convent for the groundbreaking of the Tailburger Health and Life Fitness Center. Deathly afraid of exercise equipment and fat nuns, the Link conspicuously hid behind a buffet table gorging himself on finger sandwiches while I prayed he could handle the physical exertion required to shovel one load of dirt.

Sister Ancilla was the first to find us. She and the Link were fast friends these days, having banded together to keep the sordid details of the Fanny Pack settlement from the papers and the Mother Superior. Now, both were basking in the glow of the good press that had attached itself to the fitness center event. The Link was particularly happy to see Katie Chang Gomez, Channel 7’s weekend anchor, in attendance to cover the story. “The only thing blacker than her ass is her heart,” the Link often complained about the African-American newswoman who had climbed her way up the station’s ladder doing consumer health reports criticizing Tailburger’s fatty food.

A collection of nuns, Tailburger employees and board members meandered around the convent grounds, slowly filing into the fifty rows of fold-out chairs. Burton Roxby, Rochester’s beloved Congressman, and his wife, Yeti, were there, and from across the open courtyard, he waved at me. I diverted my stare and caught eyes with Annette McNabnay. It shouldn’t have been uncomfortable, but it was. There’s nothing worse than when rejectee encounters rejector.

Construction of the Frank T. Fanoflincoln Pavilion, the structure that would house the fitness center, would take four months to complete. Once finished, it would offer the sisters, and the public, weight training, aerobics, stairclimbers, treadmills, stationary bikes and the usual fitness flavor of the month, whether it was step classes, Pilates, Tae Bo or synchronized groin stretching. Though the Link would never participate in any of these activities, he would not miss his opportunity to address the crowd. Without putting down his two sandwiches or finishing what was in his mouth, he stepped behind the podium provided and began to speak with some impediment.

“Good afternoon, flellow flitness flanatics.”

The Link held up a finger to indicate he was still chewing.

“Boy, those sandwiches are good. My compliments to the sisters.”

Smiles and applause followed, particularly from Ned, Ted and Fred, who, resplendent in golf attire, sat attentively in the front row.

“The word that comes to mind right now is ‘dream.’ ’Cause that’s what this is for me and my family: a dream come true. You see, at Tailburger, we’re committed to serving high-quality all-American fare. And in doing so, we recognize that nothing, absolutely
nothing,
works up a hearty appetite better than vigorous exercise. Now maybe, and I emphasize the word ‘maybe,’ marijuana use does it better, but either way, vigorous exercise is right there with it. So when you’re done working out here, I want you to run over to our nearest outlet, order up a big old Tailpipe with cheese and tell ’em Frank sent you.”

Even when lying through his teeth about his views on exercise, the Link was at his most likable when making public appearances, and he knew it. The audience’s enthusiastic cheers warmed him up like an opening act and gave him a dangerous amount of confidence.

“For years, we’ve heard about the diminishing number of young women who are entering the sisterhood. And with that vow of chastity, it’s kind of hard to blame ’em if you ask me.”

The Link paused for laughter that never came.

“I’m kidding about the vow, of course. But I’m serious about the fact that we don’t have enough new nuns. What this means is that we’ve got to make sure the ones we do have last a long, long time. So the real question is how in Hades are we going to do that? Well, not to worry. I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna exercise ’em like racehorses, keep ’em on a strict training diet and use plenty of steroids. The lord’s ladies may be getting a little long in the tooth, but we’re gonna keep ’em in top condition so that the rest of us can make it up to that great fitness center in the sky.”

The Link punctuated his comments by thrusting his fist into the air (for no apparent reason) as scattered applause bubbled up and Sister Ancilla took the microphone.

“Thank you, Frank, for those inspiring words. I know all the sisters, including myself, are counting the days until the stairclimbers and syringes arrive. Here at the convent, we are very proud of our new association with Tailburger, a relationship we’re sure will continue long after the last of us has done our final lat pull.”

Sister Ancilla’s pronouncement brought the biggest smile to the Link’s face that I’d ever seen. Though he was not a true Christian by anyone’s definition, he desperately wanted the acknowledgment and blessing of the church so he wouldn’t have to go to hell, just in case it existed.

With my boss in his best mood in months, I decided to use the ride back to headquarters as a litmus test.

“Did you read about Sara Lee’s hot dog recall?”

“No. What happened?”

“Listeria. I guess it’s been getting into the nooks and crannies of the assembly lines and infecting the meat. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, but cooking kills it, right?”

“This meat was already cooked.”

“Listeria. What a joke. When I was a kid we didn’t have listeria. We had little pussies who couldn’t eat a friggin’ hot dog without crying to their mommies about a bellyache.”

“Well, the USDA is coming out with a report, and Congress may make listeria testing mandatory as part of bill 214.”

“You haven’t killed that bill yet?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“These people won’t be happy until they destroy the meat industry.”

“It’s not just us. The cigarette makers have it even worse. Now I read that a group of private hospitals in New York have formed a consortium and are suing them for the unreimbursed expenses of treating smokers. Private hospitals. This is unprecedented.”

“Un-American. That’s what all this shit is. Un-American.”

“The mood out there seems to be getting pretty hostile. I think we should seriously consider settling the SERMON suit.”

“What? Have you gone crazy?”

“Frank, I think our best bet is to make a settlement offer and try to get out early. How long before all these groups come after us?”

“The hell with that, Thorne. The hell with that. The day we settle with those a-holes is the day the American way dies. Nothing but a bunch of bloodsuckers. That’s what those people are. Trying to tear down the American businessman any chance they get. And who do they hurt? Who do they really hurt? Not you and me. No, sir. It’s the average Joe Schleprock out there. The guy sitting at home in his double-wide with a Camaro up on blocks in the front yard. The guy who loves a good Tailburger.”

The Link wiped his sweating brow with a Tailburger wrapper pulled from his pocket.

“You think McDonald’s is going to pay some big settlement out of its own pockets? You think its executives are going to take a pay cut or let the stock get whacked when earnings disappear? The hell they will. They’ll do just what tobacco did. Pass the cost on to the consumer. Plain and simple. Nothing but another goddamn wealth transfer. (Pause) And where are the political parties during all this? The Democrats and the Republicans? Both playing possum, just hoping to hold on to the most campaign contributions. It’s pathetic, I’m telling you. Honest Abe must be rolling over in his grave.”

I hadn’t intended on waking the sleeping giant, but it was too late. Treading more lightly now would do me little good.

“So how do you want me to play this, Frank?”

“When are you scheduled to meet with that sorry excuse for a woman Meaney again?”

“Three weeks. Back down in D.C.”

“Okay. That gives us some time to figure things out. This is going to be our Antietam, Thorne. The bloodiest battle you’ve ever seen.”

It wasn’t hard to see how my relationship with Muffet, if it escalated, could place both of us in the way of extreme harm. Just my good fortune, the first woman I desired for more than one night, in as long as I could remember, was hazardous to my health. I would have to cut things off with her before they really began. “This won’t be so hard,” I convinced myself driving over to Pappy’s for lunch with Cal. She was off-limits. Forbidden fruit.

“You can pull it off,” Cal insisted.

Cal’s success at leading a duplicitous life until now made him believe that he, and those around him, were bulletproof.

“No way. If I get caught with her, it’s career suicide.”

“Of course it is. That’s why you bring the Link in on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You tell him that you’re going to get involved with Muffet Meaney as a way to soften her up for the settlement talks.”

“Link says he won’t settle.”

“He says that now, but what are his options? He knows he’s eventually going to have to come to the table. Having you on the inside can only help Tailburger. He’ll see that.”

“You think this will work?”

“Of course it will. You tell him that you’re taking one for the team. It’s a perfect cover. You’ll be like James Bond. Tailburger’s secret agent. Double Oh Sky.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. She doesn’t have to know a thing. The Link will buy it. And you get all the trimmings. It’s perfect.”

“You’re good, Cal. Completely sneaky, but undeniably good.”

“You have to be to survive in the industry.”

“Don’t get cocky, all right? I’ll think about it.”

Pappy came by and asked if we wanted any action on the Rochester Raging Rhinos, the city’s A-League soccer team. We stuck with the rigatoni and sent him away disappointed.

“Let’s talk about your campaign. When’s the launch?”

“Two weeks.”

“What’s the buzz?”

“It’s mixed. Whenever the NASDAQ starts bouncing up and down, conspicuous consumption suffers and we get hurt. Tailburger sales depend directly upon consumer confidence. Where that will be next week is anybody’s guess.”

“I wish you much luck, my friend.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Remember my offer remains open if you need the boost. I think you’re missing a huge opportunity to get Tailburger integrated with the industry and my business.”

“I know you do. Let’s not talk about that. How’s Jenny?”

“Oh Christ, don’t ask.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. She’s great. It’s just that it’s getting harder to keep my chosen career a secret from her. Just last week she asked me if Emily’s Girl Scout troop could come tour the jam plant out on Rush-Henrietta Road.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is that we don’t make jam there anymore. The whole space has been converted to private live performance booths that we broadcast over the Net.”

“Live sex shows?”

“Exactly. You knew that.”

“Do you get to watch?”

“If I want, but I’m pretty numb to the whole thing.”

“Those girls don’t get involved with making the jam, do they?”

“You’re a riot. Of course not. We buy it from a company in California and stick our label on it. It’s all done in a separate warehouse out in Livonia.”

“So what’s the big deal? You bring the troop by as part of a cultural exchange program. The Girl Scouts can spend the whole day learning about the exciting opportunities in the world of porn, and your actresses can try to earn a merit badge in the womanly arts.”

“Hey, you wanna keep it down?” Cal asked, glancing around the restaurant.

“I have to admit, I love having lunch with anyone whose problems are as big as mine.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Cal, there’s one sure way to successfully outfox your daughter’s Girl Scout troop and your wife. Buy a shitload of cookies.”

“When I’m done, there won’t be one Thin Mint left in the city.” I lit a Commodore as a waitress took away my plate.

“You’re still sucking down those coffin nails?”

“I know, I know. It’s bad for my chee.”

“Your chee?”

“Do you know about this chee koong stuff?”

“I may have read something about it. Isn’t it one of those martial arts they practice in China?”

“Basically, yes. Anyway, King’s got me started on it and I’m supposed to be making some kind of progress, you know, spiritually and morally, by breathing differently and meditating.”

“And? Are you making progress?”

“I don’t think so. I seem to be sliding backward.”

“You’re worrying way too much.”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll feel better once the launch happens. It’s going to be a success. Just wait.”

“You’re right. My chee will be fine.”

“I have no doubt.”

Talk about your chee-disturbing incidents, I got in my car just in time to catch a call from Trip’s new lawyer and his Long Island accent.

“Sky, Herv Alverson heere. I represent Trip Baden.”

“Herv or Herb? With a ‘v’ or a ‘b’?”

“With a vee, as in victim.”

“What do you want?”

“Trip wants his piece of yoor pension.”

“He doesn’t deserve that money.”

“Shoor he does.”

“Tell
Tripperrrr
he’ll never see a dime of it.”

“Sky, we can do this the hahrd way or we can do it the Herv way.”

“The Herv way? Who do you think you are? Al fuckin’ Pacino? Listen Herv, tell Trip that if he wants the money he’ll have to drag my ass into court.”

I slammed down the phone and sped up, control over the car’s acceleration my only outlet for anger at the moment. I was dizzy and light-headed, my heart beating too fast for its own good. For a second, I thought I was having a stroke, but after calming down, I made the diagnosis of too much stress and not enough Nordic-Track. Unbowed, I wiped the perspiration from my face and drove on. I didn’t have time to die. There were only two weeks until the launch.

13

In Deep

To my pleasant surprise, a message from Muffet was on my machine when I arrived home from work. It was somewhat shocking to hear that she wanted to come see me. I wasn’t used to such an aggressive approach by a woman, but I didn’t question it and quickly asked King to get lost. Muffet caught a cab from the airport and arrived at my house by 11:30 P.M.

When I opened the door it was awkward for a moment. Although she was dressed in blue jeans and a sexy lavender sweater set, I wasn’t sure how things would go until seconds later when we were buck naked and balling on a piano bench. If she brought as much passion to her lovemaking as she did to her battle against beef, I feared my own hospitalization before the night was through.

Following my recent dry run in the area of female conquest, it felt good to have such satisfying sex. We moved from the piano bench to the staircase to a spot underneath the dining room table. At one point, I looked up and realized I was in a room I didn’t even recognize. Further into the encounter, I started channeling the spirit of Barry White and referring to Muffet as “fuck bunny number one.” She didn’t seem to mind.

Afterward, we sat out on my sunporch and didn’t say anything for a while. The cool night breeze felt good on my face and brought the smell of lilac in from the landscaped yard. Living off of a restricted-access road lent privacy to anything that occurred behind my house. A pool that had once been a second home to Ethan, Sophia and their friends mostly sat empty these days and made me a bit sad to stare at it. I lit a Commodore and sat back on a piece of all-weather furniture I’d owned for fifteen years.

“Would you like something to eat?”

Muffet was somewhat startled by my breach of silence.

“Sure. What were you thinking of?”

I proceeded without fear on the theory that we would have to cross this bridge eventually if this relationship was to go anywhere other than the boning hall of fame.

“I’ve got some steaks I could grill up.”

Muffet smiled at me.

“Are you testing me?”

“Maybe.”

“You want to see what kind of gal I am? See if I’ll balk at your suggestion of steak?”

“Maybe I just feel like a steak.”

“You know what? That actually sounds pretty good to me.”

“Great.”

I was happy that she wanted to eat steak. Mostly, I admit, because I wanted to eat steak, particularly the porterhouse I was hiding from my brother in the back of the freezer. Still, Muffet was willing to make an accommodation for this relationship and that had to count for something. Score one for my little fuck bunny. Eating our late meal together, I reflected on my five favorite hedonistic pleasures in life, listing each in descending order:

A good piss,

A great shit,

A satisfying sleep,

A balldraining orgasm, and

Watching a half-naked woman chew on a piece of bloodred meat.

Yes, I was in the right business. I could never let myself forget that. I loved meat and everything that went with it. Knives, grinders, wrapping supplies, sausage casings, stuffers, jerky shooters, and most of all, the killing floor. To celebrate my existence, I opened a bottle of wine and then another. Pretty soon, we were both drunk.

“You know what your problem is, Sky?” Muffet asked rhetorically.

“What?”

“You don’t know how to have fun.”

Muffet’s grin gave her away, but I played along.

“You say this to a man who just qualified for the carnal olympics?”

“You need to loosen up.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Do you have a video camera?”

Muffet left the next morning on the first flight to D.C., but not before we had memorialized our attempt to exhaust the
Kama
Sutra.
The phrase “lapse in judgment” popped into my mind a few times during the effort, but I ignored it at my own peril. Man’s power of self-deception is unsurpassed in this world, particularly when it comes to the appearance of his own ass.

A telephone call from Sophia roused me from my dreamy slumber.

“Hello.”

“Daddy, it’s Soph.”

“Hey, Sophia. How are you, pumpkin?”

“I’m okay.”

The key to parenting is language interpretation. Sophia typically responded to the question “how are you?” by saying she was “great.” Thus simple deduction told me her response of “okay” probably meant a life-altering crisis was imminent.

“You don’t sound happy, babe. What’s wrong?”

“Everything. I just found out I’m getting a B-plus in Professor Kellerman’s course.”

“Which one is that?”

“Sex and the Single Female. It’s a total gut. Everybody gets an A-plus.”

“Well, what happened?”

“My end-of-term project bombed. Tweeter and I made this home video for class, but when we got finished we realized the camera’s battery had died halfway through.”

“Who’s Tweeter?”

“Oh, just some guy.”

“Is he a student?”

“No, Daddy. The students are dorks. He’s a townie.”

So much for my dream of her marrying a guy who went to Choate.

“What was the video about?”

“Daddy, what do you think? The course is called Sex and the Single Female. Use your imagination.”

“I’d rather not, if that’s okay with you. Can we talk about something else?”

When I sent Sophia off to college I told her about the importance of getting a broad liberal arts education. Things, however, seemed to be getting a little too broad and a little too liberal. Still, it was difficult to come down too hard on her about the video given my prior night’s activities.

“I got the estimates on the breast augmentation. I think saline is the way to go.”

“Whoa, whoa. What’s the cost?”

“The cheapest would be about thirty-eight hundred dollars, but there’s a guy up in Syracuse who is supposed to be some kind of breast sculptor. He’s a real artist.”

“How much for the artist?”

“Sixty-eight hundred.”

“Jesus Christ. Is this really necessary?”

“Daddy, I was hoping Sex and the Single Female would bring my grade point up, but now with the B-plus, I’m really going to need top-notch cosmetic surgery.”

“It just seems a little extreme. Can’t you do an extra-credit problem or something?”

“Oh, Daddy, be serious. It must have been fun going to school when there wasn’t any pressure.”

After approving her plan with the breast artist, I said good-bye to Sophia and decided to call Ethan to see how he was doing at Macrocock. Perhaps the second-round financing had come through and the IPO would be making him rich in a few days. I didn’t anticipate such news or the pleasure of an encounter with his chatty roommate, Skull, who answered the phone like the respectful young man that he was.

“Yeah, what.”

“Skull, is that you?”

“Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Skull, it’s Mr. Thorne, Ethan’s dad.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Is Ethan around?”

“Who?”

In a candid moment, Ethan had confessed to me Skull’s continuing fondness for what he called “the chronic.” Pot to you and me.

“I’m looking for Ethan. My son. Your roommate.”

“I know who he is.”

“That’s great, Skull. Do you know
where
he is?”

“Nope.”

“Well, can you tell him I called and ask him to call me?”

“Wait. He said he was going to the store.”

“Just now? Did he go just now?”

“Oh you know what? That was about a week ago. Never mind.”

“All right, Skull. You take care now.”

“Bye, Mr. Thorne.”

“Good-bye, Skull.”

Although I was unable to find my son, the news wasn’t all bad in my life. Jelloteous Junderstack’s heart had stabilized, making the use of our replacement campaign unnecessary. The Link was disappointed, given the dramatic use of t & a, but it was just as well considering all the money we’d spent on the Blatherskite video. Even better, Ship Plankton had found four spots in
Dongwood
for Dirk Harrington to confront various Tailburger products, yet was still able to maintain the integrity of his film. The movie’s release in two days would coincide with the introduction of our
Dongwood
Deluxe, available, of course, for a limited time at participating retailers. Order this sandwich and you’d receive an authentic carnival worker’s head lice comb, courtesy of five thousand Beijing workers making fourteen cents a week. There was no denying it anymore. We were ready to launch.