BONANZA

by Jerry Donaldson

501 words

In the large, well-appointed boardroom of the Hackman Tobacco Company, way up there on the 45th floor, it was 1965.  The Smallest Ad Man slipped in and gently closed the door behind him.  The nine men sitting around the boardroom table watched him.

“Late, sorry,” mumbled the Smallest Ad Man.

“Not to worry, son,” boomed The Big Tobacco Man from the head of the table.  “Come in, sit down and let’s pow-wow!”  The Big Tobacco Man was smoking a large black cigar.  The Smallest Ad Man took his place near the foot of the table.

At the Big Tobacco Man’s right hand sat the Lesser Tobacco Man.  He nodded sagely at the Big Tobacco Man’s words with a non-filter cigarette dangling from his lips.  All the Ad Men also nodded, and puffed vigorously on their own cigarettes.

“Okay,” said the Big Tobacco Man.  “We’re all here now, so let’s get down to work.”  At this everyone relaxed.  The Second Smallest Ad Man produced a plug of Truck Tire chewing tobacco and passed it around.  Everyone bit off a big chaw.  Two men lit up pipes.

For a few minutes there were only the sounds of chewing and smoking.  Every so often a man turned and spat into one of the several large brass spittoons situated conveniently along the walls.

The room air was becoming thick and hazy, and the Smallest Ad Man had to squint to see all the way to the head of the table.

Then the Big Tobacco Man spoke.

“So, as you all know we have a new tobacco product ready for market,” he said.  “That product is Bonanza, the super-cigarillo.”

“Would that be the new, extra-strength small cigar?”  queried the Smallest Ad Man, as he fanned uselessly at the thickening shroud of smoke.  He heard the door open and then shut, but it was too far away to see who had entered or left.

“Bonanza’s the one!” enthused the Lesser Tobacco Man.  “The very one, and let me tell you . . cough . . .cough.”  He collapsed back into his chair, hacking and hacking.

The Big Tobacco Man spat prodigiously and took an enormous pull off his huge cigar. Bonanza was his idea and he was as pleased as punch.  The Smallest Ad Man could now see only just past the papers on the table immediately in front of him.

“But, don’t these types of products cause health problems?” asked someone from the smoky gloom to the Smallest Ad Man’s left.  The bubbling of a hookah was clearly audible up-table.

“Of course they do!” declared the Big Tobacco Man.  “This shit’ll kill you dead!  But that’s not the point.  This is a matter of liberty and free choice.  It ain’t illegal to smoke, dammit!”

“There’s our advertising campaign slogan, then!” wheezed the Big Ad Man.  “’It’s Not Illegal, Dammit!’  Great!  Can anyone see clearly enough to write that down?”

The Smallest Ad Man found his pen and tried, but the smoke was just too thick.