Interview Turned Brawl: The Mouse Man, Truth, and Cigarettes

Persecuted self-mutilator: The Smoker

"What derogation of self, what sin greater than sss-smoking? Than the tobacco man? He'll kill babies and take ladies, and won't bat a single eyelash. Just a gilded rose for your tombstone and leash to wrap around your now orphaned children. . . And his consumers. . ." Shawn Caputo swallowed thick cause he just couldn't stand the very idea of them. He was a tiny man, who had been kicked around all his life, and grew up in a family of smokers - he hated them. "His smokers, why they are just as bad, killing themselves the way they do - and killing us too! All for 6 bucks, and climbing, minding you, a pack. Killing us all with their damned SMO-KING." He sipped his Starbucks coffee, and continued. "You've always gotta remember that Dave, they're killing everything around us, we've stopped them from stinking up the cafes and restaurants, even the bars, but we haven't stomped em out completely yet." He laughed. "Get it? You know, 'stomped em out?' Like a cigarette butt!" More laugher, a little mousy laugh Shawn had all his life and tried desperately to cover up. He didn't think it matched him. He was wrong. "I really want you to lay into this next guy - really let him have it. If its any good, we'll use it for our next commercial." He smiled, thin wiry lips underneath a bushy mustache.

It was the latest filming of a Truth commercial, the campaign slogan being "Do you have what it takes to be a tobbacco exec?" Its an ad set up to be a job interview, that of course is entirely fake and set-up, but the applicant doesn't know that. They're asked a bunch of questions by a big phony, and posed with problems - the kind tobbacco executives have to face everyday, and of course all the applicants swear up and down that they could never do anything so horrible, so villanous. Todays act was no different, they were merely banking on what they already considered a successful campaign. Shawn had instructed his colleague David to "lay into the next guy," and they'd get the footage and be done with it.

But thats how they saw it.

Across town a 22 year old saw it differently.

His name was Josh Wood. He saw it like this.

Alright a job interview, gotta get all gussied up and ready. It would be nice to have the job, you know, maybe then the Combine wouldn't work on me so hard. Its how they like it. Play dress-up. Never understood what was so bad about doing what you please. Don't be silly now. Time for the monkey suit.

He went through all of that trouble, the uncomfortable starchy monkey-suit, sweaty under the arms, the long trip on the bus with drippings and forgotten human life, all for a fake interview he thought was real (wonder if he'll get angry?) that went like this:

"Hey, hello, come on in." David said, a 30 year old man in a suit. He was playing the role of the interviewer, Shawn his associate hid in the other room. "Please sit down." The 22 year old sat down. He looked strange, somewhat out of place, long hair tied back and side burns out in all their glory - it was like somebody took his head and put it on somebody else's body, the body of some paper pusher in a suit. He seemed uneasy, nervous.

"No need to be nervous, uh" a quick glance at the made up application. "Mr. Wood. Do you have a resumè?"

"No."

"What? What kind of person doesn't brind a resumè to a job interview?"

"A person like me." Wood smiled. "You mind if I smoke?" He pulled out a cigarette and raised it in the air for him to see.

"Yes."

"Yes I can smoke?"

"Yes, I mind." Wood put the cigarette down dejectedly. In the other room Shawn had been listening, the question making him furious. He peeked through the door to see this bit of riff-raff, and took a good gander at the kid. HE didn't like him one bit. The gall of that bastard. He thought. This is exactly why I'm fighting. . . He's such a monster he smokes INSIDE! Why if he were to light that cigarette up, he'd be taking years off of our lives. . . There's probably a baby here, somewhere, in this building, and the smoke could get up into the ventilator shaft and get to circulating. . . and by God, that poor newborn wouldn't stand a damn chance. . . Not a damn chance. His eyes were bulging, his face the color red. Somewhere in Shawn was an anger he was suppressing, but still surfaced in bubbles of hateful thoughts in his head.

Funny.

"Now can we get on with this?!" David was trying to calm himself. "Now this company that I work for, we are looking for you to fill a position for us, that is if you are hired. . . A high level one at that too, but you see there are certain aspects of the job that some people can't handle. . . Or stomach."

"Oh yeah? What aspects doc?" Wood said, he still had the cigarette in his hand and was playing with it. David sat watching it, for as long as he could stand it, and then reached out, grabbed it, and tore it into pieces. "Hey what the hell did you do that for?"

David ignored the question and went on.

"I work for a tobacco company, and were looking for a new Executive of Consumer Relations." He smiled.

"And you're tearin up cigarettes. . ."

"But as I said there are some aspects of the job that people can't stomach. . . For instance, would you be willing to increase nicotine levels, you know, the stuff that keeps smokers addicted, would you be willing to increase them if your boss asked you too?" He leaned back in his chair, content, waiting for what he figured would be a definate no.

"What's the pay?" Wood asked.

"Huh? Oh the pay, uh, 250 k a year - benefits - stock options. . ." David fudged the figures.

"Fuck yea I'd do it."

"Well I unders-What. . . you'd do it?" David asked. He was geniunely disgusted.

"Yeah. . . Since when did people have morals when it came to making money? Especially a shitload of money. . ." Wood said. David looked as if he was actually thinking about it.

"Huh. Guess you got me there." He paused for a moment, thinking. "But what about the babies? Smoking kills babies!"

"Yeah if you blow smoke in their face. What kind of ass smokes around a baby? Not even I do that. . . And believe me, I'm known as quite the ass." Wood said smiling. "I aint never killed no babies. I've blown some smoke in the faces of dogs and cats, but I wasn't smoking cigarettes your honor. . ." He put his hand out as if he were swearing on The Bible. He smiled, he had a smile like The Grinch - menancing, even when he didn't intend it. David took one look at it and became nervous, his head probably filled with thoughts of this cigarette toting long-hair causing him all sorts of harm. He glanced over his shoulder for help to come, for someone to restrain this crazy before he DOES something, God please don't let him do something, but Shawn merely waved his hand for him to keep going, keep the bastard going.

"What if half of your consumers died each year, would you be able to target new customers?" David asked.

"Do employees get free cigarettes?" Wood searched his face for an answer, but no answer was found. "I mean paying just to keep up is getting harder and harder these days, what with the sin tax and those Truth ninnies running around. . . You know just the other day I saw a commercial that made me light one up and just laughed - they're great really. . ." David's face had changed to one of fear, he knew he's colleague in the other room was probably fuming and was gearing up for an assault. "Helping with the wussification of our Nation, I tell yah, them Truth propaganda machines. . . Wouldn't mind it really, just so many times they get it wrong. . . All wrong. Can't fight lies with lies, just don't work that way, you know what I mean, Davey boy? Besides nothing like a smoke when you really craving one, am I right?"

A bullshit smug grin formed on his face, and out of habit he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. It burned cherry at one end until he took it into his hands and exhaled a silvery cloud of death, of cyanide, of urea, of poison. To David it was a cloud of defiance, and when it reached his nostrils his body coiled, as if he had just smelled something horrible. He worried what Shawn would say. Shawn was on the other side of the door, crying he was so angry, the tears ran off his cheeks and burned holes in the carpet. He was trying desperately to chew on his lips, keep them from moving, for only hatred would come out. Suddenly he clinched his fists, all white knuckles, and lifted his head and sniffed the air. He smelled a smell that reminded him of his childhood, and somewhere on his back cigarette burns marked his back and felt like they were new again, and he was but 12 - punishment for being "a little bastid." He grew distant then, caught up in the past and anger, Mt. Vesuvius just waiting to go off.

Head for the hills.

"You sonnuva. . ." Shawn boomed through the door, surprising both David and Wood. "You dare. . . SMOKE?!" He charged the boy, taking him out along with the chair. They brawled on the floor, with punches and kicks, while Shawn cried tears of anger and pain so great he could have flooded the room. David hid under the desk and phoned the police, for he too had been from a violent family.

All injuries were minor. The incident made the newspapers, some even spun it so that it looked like a vicious attack on an unsuspecting everyday law-abiding citizen. Wood sued the Truth Campaign and Shawn Caputo respectively for assault citing he was a victim of a "hate" crime, he also claimed that he was mislead and that the attack was indeed premeditated. Besides, he really wanted the job.

He won the case and reportedly spent the money on cigarettes.

yay.

The truth though?

Wood knew the camera was there the whole time. . .

iR.