I love corporations. When I play video games, I imagine my character as a badass CEO. He’s wearing a suit, mowing down enemies without remorse, sweating from his hard-earned victory. Most people are too soft and pathetic. But rich executives give big dick energy, even with some of their rumored micropenises. It’s amazing how they lay off thousands of employees in a single day without losing a wink of sleep!
I used to be gay. I fornicated 4 to 5 men a night back when corporations decorated their logos with rainbows and posted inspiring quotes about Queer rights. When my penis rammed into what’s-his-name’s buttocks, I imagined executives watching and applauding. I travelled across the country, attending countless Pride parades. I fainted a few times from heatstroke, but what a stroke of luck that my progressive brethren were by my side to pull me up.
Corporations have pivoted to a more traditional worldview. No longer do I get erect from rock-hard abs, girthy organs, and magnetic eye contact. I’m now looking for a woman committed to a monogamous relationship and building a family. Children should rush out of her body like they’re items at an Amazon warehouse. I’d use my blue-collar skills to mow our lawn weekly and prune our bushes fortnightly. My growing family would frolic across the yard, admiring what we have.
Per the CEOs’ suggestion to society, I’m a hard worker. I work twelve-hour shifts as a plumber, where my growing bank balance makes me more desirable to a mate. I work out too. My bulging belly has diminished to a mild paunch or maybe a pouch. “I’m a female kangaroo with manly energy,” I tell the people neighboring me at the bar after a few beers. “Fertility’s held in my pouched belly: a sign of the blooming offspring I’ll soon have.”
I had a girlfriend quite a few months ago named Melissa. She had blond wavy hair and firm beliefs. She later said her firmest belief was that “I was a creep.”
“I used to think you were decent, because you had your shit together career-wise,” she said, as I researched online how I could shop for socks while giving the most money to corporations. “But you’re delusional about the world. When Veronica said she worked at an indie bookstore, you couldn’t look her in the eye. You can’t even be nice to my friends, Nick.”
“It is what it is.” Fluff masquerading as profundity is almost always the apt thing to say.
Confusingly, other women haven’t been open to starting a relationship with me. I don’t know what’s wrong. It can’t be my confident assertions. My strong pheromones should also make me irresistible. Maybe they’re too strong. A few people have called it body odor.
I get a text from my mother. Oh no! It looks like my father died. I think of the great times we had–how his thick mustache danced while he laughed, and how he did everything right, never letting me or anybody else down. He deserved so much. I have Chat GPT send a message expressing my sadness.
My phone vibrates again–a call this time! And it’s not from my mother. It’s from Melissa. I haven’t spoken to her since she ended our relationship. I answer the phone.
“Hey,” Melissa says. “I didn’t plan to tell you, but… I’m pregnant with your baby. I wasn’t sure if you were father material, but the more I think about it, the more I realize you’re more stable than other guys in a lot of ways. You’re strong, self-assured…and yeah.”
My heart jolts, and I smile widely. “And you’re wondering if I’d want to join you in a happy family?”
“Yes.”
“I’d love to.”
I drive to Melissa’s place and, upon parking, I calculate what’s needed to fix the yard and house exterior—a new paint job, a more stately front door, maybe a swing set for our child.
When Melissa opens the door, I run up and hug her. “I’ll be the best father you’ve ever seen.”
Melissa pats me on the back. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“I’m so glad you called. Fatherless children are much more likely to be depressed gang members. We’re saving the world from violent crime.”
“Right…”
I scan Melissa, idolizing every bit of her: the blotchiness of her cheeks arranged like an abstract painting, her emerald eyes, and her protuberantly pregnant belly.
“Can I speak to our baby?” I ask.
“Sure.”
I crouch and press my head to Melissa’s belly. “I’m going to raise you right,” I whisper to my little fetus. “There’s so much you must learn about corporations and their changing values. They don’t care much about anything. Except money and power. They adore those things as much as I’ll adore you, my love. They’d rob people of all they have if there were no repercussions. Maybe someday there won’t be. I prostrate myself to their intoxicating power. I love corporations, and so will you. The cycle will continue.”
The baby kicks.