Cutting 800 jobs will nip this recession in the bud!

by Gordon McDowell

CBC was on its way to meet with the CEO of an Oil Sands company, to ask some follow-up questions regarding fresh water use. A taped pair of glasses slid forward on CBC’s nose, and were pushed back up in an unconscious gesture. Need a new prescription thought CBC. Hell, need a new pair of shoes.

It would probably be an uncomfortable interview, and CBC longed for the more enjoyable task of covering local talent. Would CBC finally get some sleep tonight, finally? As CBC reached into a pocket to Twitter the latest news, some body odor wafted up. Nevermind sleep… would CBC have time to shower tonight?

Then, walking past an alley… a distress cry!

“Help! Unchecked cronyism! Someone, please! Rigged lotteries… and aboriginal teens sniffing gas!”

CBC’s hairs stood on end. This was the worst distress call yet! There would be no time to call for backup from private news organizations… the voice sounded on the verge of madness. CBC ran down the alley while digging though deep pockets for an audio recorder.

CBC never saw it coming. Out from behind a dumpster sprung R4NT, swinging at CBC from behind with a rusty golf club. CBC went down. Hard.

Pain. Bright lights. Ropes. Where was CBC? A dusty warehouse. Sounds of dripping pipes. Not good. Was this payback for some previous investigative journalism? So many enemies… but CBC’s confusion ended as R4NT stepped into view.

“You’ll have to pardon the ropes CBC” cooed R4NT, giving them a quick tug to make sure they were tight. “I wouldn’t want you to break… any news.”

R4NT’s Yves Saint Laurent suit was spotted with something dark. Blood. CBC’s blood.

“Don’t worry CBC,” chuckled R4NT, “I’ve got a whole closet full. It’s called advertising revenue.” R4NT waited a moment for CBC to register some form of appreciation, but CBC seemed more interested by the items sitting on a nearby table: CBC’s mobile. Wallet. Some pliers. A scalpel. 2009 budget cuts. And a power drill.

“What’s your problem?!? Pop-up adds too good for you? Can’t sullying up your website or radio with ads? You think you’re better than me!?!”

CBC had discussed the topic so many times, the response came automatically-

“It is not an efficient use of taxpayer dollars.”

Crap! That was probably the wrong thing to say.

“Taxpayer dollars!?!” screamed R4NT, spraying CBC with angry spittle. Obviously this was a sensitive topic.

“It costs…” CBC was unsure how to proceed, could R4NT be reasoned with?

“It only costs Canadians $34 per year”, stated as agreeably as possible.

R4NT mimicked CBC’s rebuttal back in a mock girlie voice, “Only $34 per year… ooh look at me I’m cheap like borscht! Blah blah-blah blah blah!”

A deeper voice boomed from behind CBC… there was more than just the two of them.

“What are you waiting for? Just kill CBC so we can blow this popsicle stand.”

Who’s voice was that? CBC struggled to look back, but the ropes were too tight. Whoever it was, they were close enough to hear their breath. The smell of stale caviar on unbrushed teeth. CanWest?

A smile slowly spread across R4NT’s face. R4NT picked up the scalpel, then put it down in favor of the 2009 Budget. A page pulled taught, R4NT started making sawing motions towards CBC’s face. So it was to be death by a thousand paper cuts… somehow this did not come as a surprise to CBC.

A knock! A series of thumps! Someone was trying to get into the warehouse. On the table next to the power drill and scalpel, CBC’s mobile began buzzing! Had CBC been auto-Tweeting his GPS location all this time? Had voice recognition been accidentally turned on during the attack?

“Oh shit!” exclaimed the nameless voice behind CBC, “we got to get out of here!”

R4NT dropped the 2009 Budget, and rant back to the table for the power drill. It whirred mechanically. R4NT began laughing as the power drill slowly advanced towards CBC’s face.

“R4NT! There’s no time!” footsteps clunked up a flight of stairs. Meters become decimeters. Decimeters became centimeters. It was barely touching CBC’s glasses.

“Do expect me to add pop-up ads!?!” blurted CBC, panic and fear having replaced any rational thought.

“No, CBC. I expect you to die!” The drill touched CBC’s glasses, immediately leaving a series of scratches and pushing the glasses upwards, but the drill moved no closer to CBC’s eye.

R4NT glanced back and suddenly the power drill went dead, as the extension cord was pulled from the wall. The slowing drill glanced off CBC’s skull, and a trickle of blood came down over CBC’s face and scratched glasses.

“R4NT, I’m leaving! are you coming you crazy bastard!?!”

R4NT glanced upwards past CBC, back to CBC, back upwards, then finally grabbed CBC by the shoulders, locking eyes. The pounding on the door continued much more frequent and louder. And the sound of a helicopter starting up.

“You think this is over?!? This ain’t over!”

And with that, R4NT fled the scene.

CBC left out a sigh of relief. The door began to buckle. Helicopter sounds receded. Twitter and SMS alerts sung from the mobile.

It wasn’t over, not by far. There was a budget that needed dealing with. But first, freedom. And a nice hot shower.

Video available for download and recycling at Blip.TV. (Creative Commons y’all!) For access to raw footage ping Gord. Photos above by: Rockies, J. Screaton & Jim Frazier.

Gordon McDowell