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Food Additives – Chapter 5

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 11/25/2013

HetroChemical Corp.

Larry Tittleman lies his way up the corporate ladder of a global biotech conglomerate and back down again into federal prison…

Chapter 5 – Double Agent

(At Jackson State Penitentiary, cellmates Tyrone Jackson and Larry Tittleman are turning in for the night…)

Tyrone:  So when do we get to the part where you went to prison, Tittleman? You been telling this story for two damn days.

Larry:  We’re almost there. After I helped the ELF free all those dogs they were going to turn into microwaveable bacon, HetroChemical beefed up security.


(Larry and his friend/roommate/new secretary Eddie Cornball are walking across the HetroChemical campus to the main office building…)

Eddie:  Why didn’t you have any of mom’s Happy Farms-brand low-fat low-sodium microwaveable bacon this morning?

Larry:  Uh…I wasn’t that hungry.

Eddie:  That’s alright. I gave the leftovers to that basset hound you brought home.

Larry:  (gasps)  Oh my god, Barf’s a cannibal.

Eddie:  What?

Larry:  Nothing.

(The men are stopped by members of a private security firm who thoroughly pat them down…)

Larry:  C’mon, fellas. Is this really necessary? I’m the VP of product development for crissakes.

Security Guard:  New procedure, sir. There have been some…incidents.

(Once they get to Larry’s eighth floor office, a frantic assistant rushes in…)

Assistant:  Mr. Tittleman, you’re needed in Mr. Ulysses’ office immediately.

(The assistant rushes off and Larry and Eddie share a look…)

Eddie:  Campbell Ulysses? The CEO? Wonder what he wants.

Larry:  He knows.

Eddie:  Knows what?

Larry:  About the break-in.

Eddie:  The what? Larry, what’s going on?

Larry:  (sweating)  Never mind, just…shred everything.

Eddie:  What?

Larry:  Shred it all.

Eddie:  Larry, most of these files were already here when we got here.

Larry:  (rushing out the door)  Shred it up!


“I trudged upstairs to CEO Campbell Ulysses’ office, fearing the worst…”

Ulysses:  (facing the window)  Mr. Tittleman, have a seat.

Larry:  (moping)  Yes, sir.

Ulysses:  (turns around)  Tittleman, I know what you did.

Larry:  (gulps)

Ulysses:  (grins)  And I love it.

Larry:  Pardon?

Ulysses:  We’ve been dogged — pardon the pun — by the ELF and other eco-terrorist groups since the sixties. And now we have a man on the inside.

Larry:  Oh, no sir. I’m not working for the ELF.

Ulysses:  Well, you are now. We have it all on tape, Tittleman. I saw the way that dirty hippie girl interacted with you. You’re our way in. I want you to go to their next meeting, really granola it up and see what their next move is.

Larry:  I dunno, sir. It seems dangerous. What if I get caught?

Ulysses:  By a bunch of hippies? What are they gonna do, hit you with dandelions?

Larry:  Sir, you know they blew a hole in the roof with some pretty serious explosiv–

Ulysses:  (claps hands)  Great talk! Good luck to you, son. Make HetroChemical Inc. proud.

Larry:  (hurried out of office)  Hoo boy. Sure hope Eddie didn’t shred all those files.

(Back in Larry’s office…)

Eddie:  (laughing and rolling around in a pile of shredded files)


(That evening Larry, Eddie and Barf, Larry’s rescued basset houd, wait outside an old abandoned grange hall in rural Shanghai, MO where Persimmon told Larry the ELF would be meeting that night…)

Eddie:  (wearing a tie-dye shirt and a bandana covered in peace symbols)  I’m nervous, Larry. What if they can tell we’re not really eco-terrorists?

Larry:  (wearing a “COEXIST” shirt with a Darwin fish pinned to it for some reason)  Relax, Eddie. Just follow my lead. And granola it up, will ya?

Eddie:  I don’t know what that means.

Larry:  I don’t know, either; but Mr. Ulysses said it. Seemed important. Anyway, I brought some in a Ziploc bag if you get hungry later.

(The large main door to the grange hall opens behind them and Larry turns and smiles as Persimmon beckons them inside. The boys follow the pretty young dread-locked hippie as they pass pews filled with ELF members. At the front of the hall an afroed gentleman is sitting Indian-style. Persimmons kneels down in front of him and the boys follow suit while Barf licks his asshole…)

Harmony:  I am Harmony. The leader of the Missouri chapter of the ELF. Persimmon informed me you wish to join our ranks.

Larry:  Yeah…man. I really hate…The Man…man.

Harmony:  ‘Hate’ is a powerful word.

Larry:  Well, I feel…powerfully about it.

(Harmony falls silent and Larry glances at Persimmon, who nods and smiles. Harmony rises and his chapter members follow…)

Harmony:  Welcome…to our new friends. You will no longer go by your corporate capitalist slave names. From now on you will be Thistle.

Larry:  Thistle?

Harmony:  And you will be Loganberry.

Eddie:  Loganberry.

Larry:  (snickers)

Persimmon:  Thistle works at HetroChemical. He helped us free the hounds, one of whom you see before you.

(Harmony glances down at Barf, still licking his asshole…)

Larry:  His name’s Barf, ’cause he ate my barf. We can still call him Barf, right?

Harmony:  (nods sagely)

Persimmon:  Perhaps we should inform Thistle of our plan, Harmony. He could be of great use to us.

Harmony:  (strides out in front of the ELF members)  HetroChemical is working hand-in-hand with the United States government’s own NSA to create a new and all-encompassing form of espionage.

Larry:  How?

Harmony:  Bees.

Larry:  Bees?

Harmony:  HetroChemical has developed a form of hybrid cyborg bumblebee, equipped with cameras and audio-monitoring equipment to record anyone, anyplace, anytime. The records are then retrieved from the cyborg bees’ honey hive and transferred to computer chips for monitoring of the people. The government has moved beyond computers and onto Mother Nature in order to keep us all in line.

Larry:  That seems far-fetched. So what’s the plan, kill the cyborg bees?

Harmony:  (shakes his head)  We’re gonna burn HetroChemical to the ground.

Larry:  Oh.

Eddie:  (gulps)

Barf:  (licks asshole)


(Back in Jackson State Penitentiary, Tyrone shuts his eyes on the top bunk…)

Tyrone:  Well Thistle, rest up. Gonna be a long day tomorrow.

Larry:  The, uh, race riot?

Tyrone:  Mmhmm. I’d shove a phone book down your trousers first thing tomorrow morning, if I were you. A good shiv can usually only reach up to the M’s.

Larry:  (pulls sheets up to his chin) (gulps)


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