D:L&L - Part 10 | Lion: Power Lunch

By the beard of the Unseen God, was I hungry.

I stopped a moment and closed my eyes, hoping that the suspension of one sense would heighten the intensity of another.

Oh Power, did I need this... I moaned a bit.

It’s not that the food was particularly delicious, but I had gone a good three days without eating and I found it affecting my work. My friend Cú once told me that only a fool works on an empty stomach. He said “you’ll never think clearly if your stomach is growling.” As a stone cold contract killer, not to mention the biggest dog I had ever seen, Cú’s opinion in such matters could be trusted.

I savored the taste of the food, eyes closed, head back... I would sleep well tonight. Then I opened my eyes- for a second, I had forgotten about the four of them in the corner. Two males and two females.

One was crying- the female with the long straight hair. I think she was the singer. I don’t remember- humans looked so much alike to me that when a group of them dressed in a similar fashion, it was hard to tell them apart. I could smell them just fine now. They all smelled like pure, unfiltered fear. And urine. That metallic smell of human urine that the rest of the animal kingdom finds so foul. One of the females had wet herself.

I leaned over and stuck my face into the giant bowl next to me, running my tongue through the fortified red wine. Sweet waves of nectar washed down my throat and all over my face. To be honest, I made a bit of a mess of myself. For humans, munchkins, and other cultures hewed on notions of self-importance, this would be considered gauche. Lions, however... well, just try telling a lion that he looks silly and let me know how that works out for you.

Good heavens, sometimes I forget how a fine meal can raise my spirits.

I swallowed a mouthful and regarded the humans in the corner of the room. They were hugging each other so tightly that they looked like one heaving animal with eight arms. I smiled before I could hold it back. It was really funny.

“I just don’t hear a hit,” I said as I looked over at them.

The boy with curly hair burst into tears. This set off some sort of chain reaction and soon the four of them were all sobbing and shaking in unison. There was more urine.

The remains of their bass player were on the floor in front of me. I wished more bands would have chubby bass players. This one had been good.

Oh well. My food was almost all gone. Time to get back to business.

I tore some flesh from his remaining leg and as I chewed, I continued, “You know, that’s what advances are for. I give you people money, and you use that money to buy the things you need to help you write good songs. You buy equipment for your instruments, you pay the rent, you put some food in your stomach, and you write songs. Good songs. Unlike, for example, the aural excrement that you have just scooped into my ears.”

I belched. Power, that was good!

“Hey Leo?”

My assistant Lanny poked his head into the studio. He looked at the band in the corner and did a quick head count, confirming that the five musicians who had checked in to the studio would be leaving as a foursome. If they were lucky.

Looking down at the bones and clothing on the floor in front of me, I watched him shake his head. All studio maintenance, including clean up, was included in Lanny’s job description.

“Hey, would you kids give me a quick moment?” I asked the band.

“Oh... my God... please...” the one girl stammered through her tears.

“Thanks,” I said, “now what can I do you for, Lanny?”

“You’ve got an urgent call in the office. It sounds pretty serious.”

“But Lanny, as you can see, I’m in the middle of imparting a valuable lesson on the importance of budgetary vigilance in the creative arts.”

“I see that boss. Um... I still think you’ll want to take this call.”

The crying boy suddenly unleashed a wail so high pitched and dramatic, that both Lanny I and stopped and looked at him. His hair had been pushed up with some sort of creme, and he had women’s mascara packed around his eyes that made him look like a hairless raccoon. I knew this was the fashion, of course, but I still thought it looked silly. Human girls liked it though, and if it shifted units, then I could handle it. However, nothing that this band had just played for me was likely to sell many records. Hence my demonstration with the chubby bass player.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the wailing boy, “do you like to be interrupted when you’re having a conversation?”

“Nnn... nnn... nnn...” he stammered, before breaking into that ear-splitting wail again.

I looked over at Lanny to see if he was enjoying this as much as I was, but he was gravely serious. It was apparently time for me to finish making my point.

“If this is what happens to someone who accidentally offends me,” I said, gesturing to the bass player’s carcass, “what do you think happens to someone who does so on purpose?”

Now the girl who was holding him shrieked. The other two fell to the floor weeping, dragging down the whole mess. Soon the four surviving members of “Glitter Kidz!” were writhing on the floor, weeping, wailing and pissing themselves. Poor Lanny would be late for dinner again.

“Lanny, you’re a producer, so by way of explanation, the husky young boy on the bass not only fell behind his drummer quite often, but on three separate occasions in the last number, their proposed hit single, I might add, he hit the wrong note.”

“Yeah, um, boss... the person calling said to um... get you right away.”

“Well who’s calling and what’s so important,” I asked and then said “Nevermind- just put them through to the studio phone. Patch them in to line one.”

“Boss,” Lanny lowered his voice, “It’s the other phone.”

Fun time was officially over.

I wondered if that phone would be used again. I supposed it would, but I guess I hadn’t really prepared myself for it.

“Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“Will do, boss.” Lanny closed the door behind him.

I looked back at the band. No more time for hammy histrionics.

“You insolent pieces of shit, you listen to me right now,” I growled, “I gave you a lot of money for you to write songs for your new album. And this is the shit that you come back with? You think any man or munchkin is going to be interested in this? There aren’t enough poppies in Oz to make this shit listenable, let alone finding a hit in in this mess!

You listen good - you get the fuck out of here, you go home, and you lock the door behind you. Then you write me twenty fucking songs and if ten of them aren’t great, you will all end up like your fat little friend here. Do you understand?”

The girl with blond curly hair seemed to muster up some strength as she looked up through her tear smeared makeup and said, “Yes sir...”

“I want songs that sound like your last album. I want to hear songs that make humans want to dance. I want to hear songs that make munchkins want to sleep with each other. I want to hear songs that sell millions of copies and if I don’t, it’s bass player time for all of you.

You have two weeks. Now GO!”

They tried to get up, but slipped on the urine. Pulling on each other as they tried to rise, they all fell down again.

“GO!” I bellowed, as they attempted to get up, this time successfully. They gave me a wide berth as they ran towards the door.

I lunged towards the door and unleashed a thunderous roar.
“Take your fucking instruments, you idiots!”

They turned around and scrambled to put their instruments back into the cases and bags on the floor. I left them to finish packing as I walked to the door.

“Oh,” I sneered and paused as I left the room. “Get a new bass player.”

I was gone.

I took the elevator up to the top floor and dropped to all fours as I bounded down the corridor towards my office, sending papers off the secretaries’ desks and knocking over at least one old munchkin from the mail room.

Lanny was holding the door to my office open for me. I flew past him and heard the door shut behind me.

There it was — the black phone behind my desk. The one that had been used only one other time.

It was the phone that would only bring unwanted news. There were two who knew this number, but I already knew which of them would be waiting for me on the other line.

I picked up the phone.