NOTHCO

http://stevenmulak.chicopee.com/images/Jennifers%20Clowns.JPG


Hey Frank, you want another beer.

In a bit Sean.

It's Friday Frank. Hell you are Friday Frank.

Yeah yeah...

All right. The others are not even here yet. So what is the matter? Just you and me.

I...I...
Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.

Ah come on. Ale Keeper, bring us two more of your finest brew.

At least his name is Al. hahahahahaha

There ya go Frank. A little yuck yuck.

All right Sean. Look. You are just a floor manager. I have to keep charge of the entire third floor and coordinate with the second.

Oh good, another briefing Frank. That's what I need. Another briefing.

Do you wish to know from whence my angst arose or not?

Go ahead, Sean said as the maid brought over the two new pints. Sean loved this place. Out in the middle of the plains. Nothing all around and here is this beautiful structure...looked like a castle. And the pints. Hey, English pints. The middle of the Plains and here was an English Ale House.

Well...Sean you must promise never to tell this to anyone. There is a fourth floor. I found out today.

What the hell?

Yeah. Go outside. Look at the damn building. And yet, I saw it. I was in a hurry and the second elevator is out so I run to the stairway on the WEST END. I never thought about it. And after I got through the door to the stairway I saw a door on my left inside it. But it was ajar. So I stopped and peeked in and there was a short stairway UP THE DAMN STAIRS. Someone must have fuck up and left the door open. Anyway I quietly found my way up about seven steps and came to another door. I opened it and there was an entire floor. Filled with desks and computers and twenty people scurrying around.

Only these people were strange. They were short. I mean, like under five feet tall. At least it looked like that from my perspective. And they were all wet from perspiration. And I swear they were all speaking a different language.

Stop. Stop this Frank. This is not even that funny. I mean its kind of funny but....if anybody else heard this, well you might find yourself in trouble.

All right. Time for Karioke I suppose. And with that Frank stopped his ranting in its track and they sang and spoke of beer maids and Ale Masters......

But Sean kept thinking about this as he drove home. Driving home was always a challenge. There were only two patrolmen in the area and it was common knowledge that between eleven and midnight no one would bother him on hwy 46. He had the radio on playing Cream. And he thought about the midgets.

There had been a late night business meeting on Tuesday and he ran into the parking ramp to get his car. He could never forget that night. Eight, maybe ten really short people were entering this minivan. It was like one of those stunts at the circus he used to see when he was a kid. The little clowns coming out of the little car. Sean had always been afraid of clowns. There is actually a clinical term for it.

Sean reached for a doobie in the glove compartment, shaking.

Frank awoke at home with his usual hangover. His wife had left more than a year ago and took everything but the dog. He had slowly procured a bed and a sofa and his 'man's chair' along with his great entertainment corner. One thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that there were cheap homes to be had. And with satellites he had the computer and TV with all the entertainment anybody could find anywhere. NORTHCO had built this housing project that contained a nice pond and even a nine hole golf course. Was not a building in the entire project built before 95. A series of wind turbines together with solar panels on all the structures provided over fifty per cent of all his energy needs.

But the seclusion and the secrecy and the stench from the cess pool in the summer was getting to Frank. The MONEY WAS SOOOOOO GOOOOD THOUGH. And since his living expenses were so low, especially with the advent of the divorce that he just could not think of leaving.

But work. NORTHCO was the strangest outfit he had ever worked for. He had been in the Twin Cities for fifteen years before coming here. And it was getting close to his tenth anniversary here.

An accounting degree and an MBA from his state university. Top grades. Worked for the old Northwest Banks in various capacities. Dealt in bonds, stocks, warrants...even some European inventions.

Ten years AND HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT THE HELL NORTHCO DID.
He threw three eggs in the blender along with some mozaralla and some salt and pepper careful to add some hot sauce and threw the jumbled mess in a pan and then went ahead a grabbed a Sam Adams.That was another strange thing about his employer. He hardly ever was called in to work on Saturday and never Sunday. I mean there were some fourteen hour days once in a great while, like the one on Tuesday.

But his actual job really was hard to describe. Turning the mess over in the pan and adding a cover he took the beer to his 'station' and turned on the pc. He had installed this gem all on his lonesome and nobody really knew he had it. The PC had one of those ears you plugged in and was separate from his entertainment set up.

The billing went to a debit card for an account he had kept in a small bank in Minneapolis for twenty five years. The only place the billing would ever be seen would be at that bank and in the pc. Just because my week ends are free does not mean I am not going to keep busy he thought, taking another swig of Sam.

Oh the damn eggs...ah just in time Frank thought as he looked at the pretty omelet. He had forgotten to toss some cut up green peppers and onions into the pan, but it looooooooooked good. He quickly grabbed a begal with some peanut butter on it and brought his breakfast plate to his secret station. He brought up his working paper on Word along with his diagrams. As he took another swig of Adams, the thought crossed his mind that the booze might be the reason that in ten years HE STILL WAS NOT SURE WHAT HE DID FOR A LIVING. HA!!!

Looking at the schematic, on the third Word tab, he began adding the fourth floor that did not exist while munching on his omelet. He then cross referenced the dimensions of the building from the architectural plans with his estimates of the size of each floor. He pulled up the floor plans and reexamined them.

Damn, there was room for another floor or at least attic eight feet high. There it was the entire time.

But another thought struck him as he grabbed his coffee and a smoke after tossing the breakfast dishes in the sink. Part of his job had been to work with the procurement officer, Mr. Sphincter. Geeez where do you get a name like that and here we are in the twenty first century and that sphincter would not even use his first name.

Anyway, sucking on his poison stick, Frank had already demonstrated in his working paper that paper and staples and all sorts of supplies seemed out of whack; thirty percent too high. Frank had arrived a full two years after the structure had been built. And he knew about the discrepancies in the supply area but he always figured that sphincter or someone higher up was picking up a couple extra bucks on the side. He had seen this type of activity before and had just figured it had nothing to do with his job description. I mean he never actually entered any false figures on reports or such.

But the little people. He never recalled seeing little people at the Walfart where he purchased all his groceries and drugs and everything else he needed. He paid the project contractor for snow removal and such. So Frank barely had a shovel for years although he finally got a good machine since everyone else had one. He even put a Santa on the front stoop for show.

But where were Santa's elves? I mean where the hell were they? Again, the office, the English Ale House and the Walfart. God what a life. Despondency grabbed at him but he went for his sweet French Roast refill anyway. Grabbing another smoke....

He reviewed his list of duties again like he did every Saturday Morning. He worked closely with payroll. He did background checks on new employees although they were rare which led to another question. I mean, why was there hardly any turnover?

He made sure t-4's were filed every day, and on time. He cross referenced payroll with......

But there were no little people. I mean 1,456 employees and 1,456 checks. Every two weeks, no matter what. Thirty people had been replaced since he got there...but they had all died. Snowmobiling, cars, skiing...there were enough ways to kill yourself in the middle of nowhere.

Frank was sure he knew everyone. Slowly, with all that time on his hands he had collected all the profiles of all the employees and posted it onto his secret pc. After all these years he KNEW all the employees really.
But what exactly was NORTHCO's product?I mean he worked all the time on the investment side of things. Always brought back at least a ten percent net profit on all investments.

There were those huge vats, barrels of stuff that would roll out of NORTHCO and the empty barrels that would return.

There was the 'factory area' where he never went; was not allowed inside really. That stuff was in the basement. And the trucks that picked up the 'stuff' all headed north.

He did not give a damn about politics; kind of despised those green folks. But speaking of green folks, he did see those purple deer that one time on the way home. And there were those two beavers on the pond with two tails. Oh, and that entire stretch of highway that was shut down one week end when an new one was opened. He had driven home drunk one night, missed the curve and found himself on the old road. This blight had hit the forest on one side, the north side of the old road. Webs, strange webs were handing off leafless trees. After pondering this puzzle the next morning, Frank kind of put it out of his mind since he had tasted of Sean's weed that night before anyway.

Oh and Bernice from accounting had complained that her hands glowed in the dark from time to time but Frank just figured that she was getting too friendly with Sean's 'supplier'.

Why had Frank never worried about NORTHCO's actual 'product'. Well the money really. The fact that Frank really did not like people. He did not miss 'the busy downtown'. He did not miss the fine dining or dancing available in a big city. He could watch any movie or play he wished on his entertainment center.

Frank could kind of be a hermit when he was not at work. Hell at work he seldom had to be with any people really. He could just stay in his office facing the outside window and reading meaningless messages on his company pc. And that was okay for him.

While pondering his meaningless existence, there came a knock at the door. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

Collecting himself, Frank shut his secret pc down, pushing the button to hide machine. He opened the door and there was Sean.

All right then, you can come in but do not speak too much. The elves have been dancing.

Sean snickered, begged for some French Roast and they sat on the four season porch watching the squirrels and such.

Frank, I am much troubled. Troubled by what you spoke of last night at the ale house. No no no, do not shush me. I got to get something off my chest Frank.

When I was very young, four or five years of age...grandma Thompson took me and my no good brother to the circus. And I was much afeared about the lions and tigers and totally awed by the near naked ladies in tights on those high swings. And then, just as I was feeling the effects from some bad hot dogs that grandma got us, out comes this little tiny car. And out of this little car all these midget clowns got out, one by one by one.......and it never stopped. And I had the worst nightmares about it. I still have a bad dream once in awhile to this day. And I have to tell you. Last Tuesday, I went down to get my car and there were all these little people, a lot like the clowns in my dreams. And they were getting into this minivan. And they just kept piling in the van. And I got sick to my stomach just watching all this.

And then you Frank, this fourth floor. Well there is this Bernice in accounting and she and some of her friends will talk about the fourth floor from time to time. I thought it was some joke they heard on SNL or something. Like that Malkovitch movie...you know the one with Cusack. Even I started joking about it recently when Lawson, the VP overheard and called me over. He had objections to joking on company time. This bothers me much Frank.

Just look at those three happy squirrels over there Sean; some beautiful country out there.

Just then the three squirrels turned toward them. Only it was only one squirrel with six feet and three tails; and it appeared to be snarling at the two. In the background from the porch, both could hear the entertainment center. Singing.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA6YXuagiuU