SONY EXEC: Marty! Sit down! Take a load off! Did my secretary offer you some AFL-CIO blood?
AGENT: Yeah, thanks Max I’m ok for now.
SONY EXEC: You sure? Maybe some Vitamin Water or something?
AGENT: Shut the fuck up you hollow piece of trash.
UPROARIOUS LAUGHTER
SONY EXEC: Alright alright lets cut to the chase. I see that Avril has a new album coming out.
AGENT: Oh yeah, she’s been working very hard on these songs that are incredibly personal to her. Real intricate stuff.
DEAD SILENCE
AGENT: I’m fucking with you–the monkeys wrote it in 20 minutes. You should see those little hairy fuckers after 50 mils of Adderall.
SONY EXEC: Jesus Marty you scared me! Ok good good. Well, I was talking to the guys upstairs, and we were thinking–you mind if I do some rhino dust?
AGENT: Not at all.
SONY EXEC: We were thinking–*SNORT*–uhhhgg, that shit is PURE FUCKIN RHINO. Scuse’ me. We were thinking that “Slut” is back. We want Avril’s new album to reflect the second coming of “Slut.”
AGENT: I’m sorry Max, I don’t really follow you here.
SONY EXEC: Well, a decade ago you had the classic interpretation of “Slut” a la Brittany and Christina, and then the Gaga bitch and these other androgynous whosits comes along and muck it up a little bit. And then this economy…
AGENT: What’s wrong with the economy?
SONY EXEC: Oh I don’t know, the usual “we can’t eat” bullshit, I have no idea. Flatscreen sales are down 15%, blah blah. Point is: the public is ripe for “Slut” right now. Its udders are swollen and their eyes are lolling around and its practically moaning to be milked by “Slut!“
AGENT: You know I appreciate a good cow metaphor Max, but the thing is that “Slut” isn’t Avril’s thing.
SONY EXEC: It isn’t? You’re telling me that all my daughter’s Avril t-shirts don’t make her look like a slut?
AGENT: No no, of course your daughter’s a fucking slut. What I’m saying is that her thing is “Diet Slut.” “Prim Slut.” She don’t do drugs and she don’t write about sex but she wears fishnets like a Fin de Siecle putain.
SONY EXEC: *SNORT* Ohhhhh, fuck yes. Fuck yes. Sorry–what?
AGENT: It’s just not gonna work Max, she won’t do it.
SONY EXEC: Alright, alright, calm down Marty. What if the monkeys wrote her a song where she cuts loose a little bit, but in the end just returns to her normal coquettish bullshit.
AGENT: I’m listening.
SONY EXEC: She could basically be saying, you know, “I’m gonna fuck around a little bit and fuck other guys ’cause I’m hot and I can fuck,” you know, what the hell?
AGENT: “What the hell.” I like it. But she can’t explicitly say that.
SONY EXEC: I know, I know, but I’m just thinking video: she can do cute shit like steal a cab and lock her boyfriend in a bathroom, and sing “I’m messing with your head, when / I’m messing with you in bed.” You know. Cute little slut shit that would normally get her slapped. Feminist shit.
AGENT: Jesus. You. Are. A. Genius–I mean, Jesus.
SONY EXEC: That’s why they pay me in ivory.
AGENT: So I’ll get the monkeys working on this track, and we’ll just chock the video full of Sony-TVs, Blu-Rays, the whole shebang.
SONY EXEC: Beautiful.
AGENT: And obviously Avril’s perfume, and fashion line and whatnot. She’s gotta get a piece too.
SONY EXEC: Of course. How is Avril doing these days?
AGENT: She had a little rough patch after the Sum 41 guy got that sex change–divorce is tough, y’know?
SONY EXEC: Nah not really. Listen, you get the fuck outta here so we can start marketing the hell out of this album. Sony/RCA needs this shit. I gotta deal with this Citizen Cope crisis.
AGENT: Oh god, what now?
SONY EXEC: He saw that some guy on the internet called him “an even shittier Whitey Ford” and now he locked himself in a panic room.
AGENT: HA! Good luck with that.
SONY EXEC: Fuck yourself.
