We cut backstage to a shot of a random door but we aren’t able to bask in the majesty of the door for too long as it violently swings open, almost knocking the camera man over in the process. After a few seconds of shaky cam, we get to see the source of the potential camera damage – a balding, middle aged man trying his best to carry three large cardboard boxes stacked atop each other. He stumbles to the left and to the right as he walks towards a small folding table that has been set up in the concourse of the MGM Grand. As he places his stack o’ boxes down, the poor soul takes a deep breath but his moment of quiet doesn’t last for long as outside of the camera shot, the clapping of hands can be heard. A voice follows the clap of the hands, clearly belonging to the proprietor of The Glue Factory, Philip Martin Atken.
Phil Atken: Hop to it young Gary, can’t you see that you are already making our loyal consumers wait?
Atken walks into camera shot, adorned in a fine ass powder blue three piece suit that we have to assume has some form of tearaway function considering his match against Larry Tact is scheduled in mere moments. Atken’s hand wildly gestures in the direction of three to four fans that are awkwardly milling around the folding table, most of them trying to work out what’s even happening in the first place. The identified Gary wearily sighs and begins to tear open the box, gently placing bottle upon bottle of Civil Dusk upon the table.
Phil Atken: That’s the stuff Gary, these people are our eager beavers. They certainly want to lay claim to the first batch of our BEAUTIFUL Civil Dusk brand crafting glue.
Atken smiles and waves to the fans who are a little bit confused about the stack of glue that is being presented upon them.
Phil Atken: I feel like this occasion calls for an opening address…
Atken rummages around inside his jacket, producing a pair of half-moon spectacles and a small series of notes attached by a small ring.
Phil Atken: het HEM… It brings a tear to the eye of your humble Glue Factory proprietor to see so many of you here for the launch of our first product. I know how powerful word of mouth has been around our brand and I am immensely overjoyed that soon our product will be in the hands of the consumer. The Glue Factory continues to influence the world. Why, just recently I had a very productive conversation with Ms. Muriel Puddings who wished to pass on the intense and immense gratitude from her brother about our intervention at Culture Shock. It seems that Mr. Puddings indeed agreed with our assessment that Dusk was making a mockery of him and was stealing the spotlight from the Puddings family. We are honoured to have the support and approval from one of the most popular talents in PRIME, and her brother. It is exciting to consider building our brand together with a marketing genius on the level of Ms. Muriel Puddings. There are no egos at The Glue Factory, we are team players and we fully accept that Tapioca Pudding’s victory could not have been achieved without the excellent guidance of Ms. Puddings.
Atken flips over a few pages on the note cards, mumbling to himself as he does so. The audience present seems closer to a hostage situation than an eager crowd at this point. They are too polite to leave but clearly do not want to stay.
Phil Atken: Our gesture to our dear friend Tappy is something I hope all of the young and eager talent of PRIME appreciate. He was clearly being manipulated. Dusk attempted to use his veteran authority to snuff out the bright shining light that is Tapioca Puddings and I’m glad that I could be there to tip the scales of the universe towards justice. Mr. Puddings, if you’re watching, the Glue Factory remains open in both heart and business for you. As it does for any star who feels the foot of the past standing on the airway of the future.
Atken stops for a few moments, and the camera clearly picks up that his set of note cards has “APPLAUSE BREAK” written next to his last statement. There is no applause break but that does little to dissuade the proprietor. He disposes of his notes and glasses as the group around The Glue Factory’s table increases by a literal handful. This does not stop the address from continuing.
Phil Atken: Tonight we look to extending our product range upon the completion of my sporting bout with Mr. Larence Tact. Mr. Tact issued a statement earlier in the week making a mockery of my age and well… that got this old veteran thinking about a very important question…
The salesman smile vanishes in an instant from the face of the Glue Factory’s main man, replaced by a sneer.
Phil Atken: Mr. Tact, how humiliating is it going to feel for you when the bell rings at the end of this match? How awful is it going to be for this career correction you are seeking when a decrepit old fart like myself chokes you out in the middle of the ring? What are going to be your final thoughts that rattle around in your skull as the inky blankness descends upon you? As you fight to cling to consciousness and the roar of the crowd begins to fade to nothingness, I hope you have just enough presence of mind to realise that I haven’t been sitting on my couch for the last ten years. Just a little thought, a mere dash of pepper to add to your mind stew.
The anger in the eyes of Atken melt away like butter, quickly replaced by the false pleasantries of a man just trying to sell a little bit of glue. Atken produces a small bit of ribbon from his pocket and a pair of nail scissors. He holds up the ribbon and starts to snip away.
Phil Atken: It brings me immense joy to declare The Glue Factory stall officially… oeuvre! Please come back later this evening where young Gary here will be more than delighted to provide you our newest brand “Tactless”. That’s The Glue Factory’s “Tactless”, for when little blue balls just aren’t good enough.
We cut away as a small line of around ten forms at the folding table. Where do we cut to? Perhaps another random door, who knows, stay tuned!