Subconsciously – Chapter 3
American Lee Cohn lies her way through England in order to acquire a football team endorsement for e-Pocalypse energy supplement e-cigarettes.
Chapter 3 – Retrospection
RADIO: Her Majesty the Queen remains hospitalized after suffering heart palpitations this weeken–
(Lee Cohn turns down the radio in her rental car while dialing her boss Nellie Turano…)
NELLIE: You’ve got Nellie.
LEE: Hey boss, it’s Lee.
NELLIE: Lee, how are those e-cig sales looking.
LEE: Um, I’m working on some leads. I’m actually on my way to a meeting with Manchester City right now to see if they’d be interested in a sponsorship deal.
LEE: Boss, you’re breaking up. I think I’ve got a poor connection.
NELLIE: No, that’s probably on my end. I’m driving through rural Mexico right now.
LEE: What the heck are you doing down there?
NELLIE: Well, I haven’t heard anything from the e-Pocalypse people in a while and I couldn’t find an address for a Chicago office, so I decided to head to the address on the packaging. They must manufacture the cigarettes down here in Mexico for tax purposes.
LEE: Seems shady.
NELLIE: Nah, all the big corporations are working in Mexico now. Coca-Cola. Nike. Mexico’s the wave of the future, Lee.
NELLIE: Gotta go, I see the factory up ahead. Move some merchandise, Cohn.
LEE: Yes, ma’aam.
(Nellie hangs up and steps out of her rental car in front of a towering decrepit old warehouse. She opens a rusty door and blinding sunshine invades the dark cavernous warehouse, shedding light on long tables where naked Mexican women are sorting and packaging large piles of white powder…)
NELLIE: Oh, I must have the wrong place.
(Nellie turns to leave and is greeted by a grinning man holding a machine gun…)
GOON: Not so fast, muchacha.
NELLIE: I’m sorry. I seem to have stumbled onto some sort of, uh, flour tortilla manufacturing plant. I was looking for e-Pocalypse Industries.
GOON: This is e-Pocalypse Industries. You are the American?
(A well-quaffed Mexican man in a white three-piece suit approaches Nellie and the armed goon, laughing and clapping…)
NACHO: Yes! Yes! This is the American.
NELLIE: Mr. Notchizedes, I want to assure you I haven’t seen anything. What happens in your country–
NACHO: No no, you have seen enough. And please, we are in business now. My business associates and close friends call me ‘Nacho’. ‘Notchizedes’ is, uh how do you say, too long.
NELLIE: (nervously chuckles) It is a long name.
NACHO: (immediately cross) It is my mother’s name! I took her name after she burned my father alive for committing infidelities! How dare you speak ill of my mother!
NELLIE: It’s a lovely name. And I’m sure your mother is a wonderful woman. I’m sorry, Mr. Notchizedes.
NACHO: (holds up a finger, smiling) Nacho.
(Mr. Notchizedes puts an arm around Nellie’s shaking shoulders and leads her out of the drug warehouse…)
NACHO: Let’s go to my estate and my mother can cook us a nice lunch. What are you in the mood for, Mexican food?
(Nacho and his goons laugh uproariously while Nellie feigns a weak smile…)
(Back in London, Lee has fibbed her way into a meeting with the head of marketing for Manchester City F.C.. They’re shaking hands when Lee’s phone rings…)
MARKETING BLOKE: I think we’ve got ourselves a deal, Ms. Cohn.
LEE: Just a moment. (answers phone) Nellie, you’d be so proud of me. I got us Manchester City!
NELLIE: Cancel it.
NELLIE: Nix the deal. e-Pocalypse is run on illegal drug money. It’s dirty. There’s a big…warehouse full of coca.
LEE: Nellie, what are you–
(Mr. Notchizedes knocks on the bathroom door in his palatial Mexican estate…)
NACHO: Miss Turano, my mother has made enchiladas!
NELLIE: I’ll be right out. (into phone) I have to go, I think I’m being held hostage by a Mexican druglord. *click*
LEE: (listening to dial tone) Uh…
MARKETING BLOKE: Something amiss, Miss Cohn?
LEE: We’re gonna have to get back to you.
Send all hate mail to email@example.com