Dr. Slick: A Killer Comedy by Dani Amore Page B

around the room. Most everyone is looking away from him, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Even Dylan can’t look at him.
    “Well, all right then.”

Four
     
    Tom walks out of the conference room looking like a beaten man.
    Kelly walks out and pulls him aside.
    “He had no right to be so brutal. I liked your idea,” she says.
    Tom looks at her with a dazed expression on his face.  “I thought this would just be the first round.”
    Kelly shrugs her shoulders and walks away.
    “Tom, in my office,” Wolcott says from behind him.
    Tom’s mind is filled with dread as he follows his boss to the corner office.
    Unlike Tom’s space, Morgan’s is the epitome of upper management. Hardwood floors, chrome desk, floor-to-ceiling windows with great views of downtown Chicago.
    “Dr. Slick?” Wolcott says to Tom, his face filled with anger and repulsion.
    Tom feels his face flush.
    “Yeah, you know, it was supposed to be a play on oil slick - you know - Dr. Slick - the bad guy-“
    “I think I got it - outwitted once again by American Oil?” Wolcott says, his voice thick with sarcasm.
    Tom nods like a kid who got caught with a Playboy magazine by his parents.
    “Are you out of your mind, Tom? With environmentalists crawling out of the woodwork? American Oil has a spotty record with the environment. It was in the brief, did you read it?”
    “Of course I read it,” Tom counters. “In my idea, Dr. Slick is the competition - not American – not our client.”
    Wolcott throws his hands in the air.  “Oh come on.  We both know the public remembers virtually nothing about commercials.  Half the time they can’t even tell you what company it was for. The most anyone would remember about your spots would be Dr. Slick and American Oil. If I presented that piece of shit idea, we’d lose the goddamn account!”
    “I guess I should have been more aware of the strategy, but since I thought it was the first round-“
    Morgan spins in his chair and punches a button on his phone.
    “Mary, can you bring me a latte?” he says into the intercom.
    Morgan stands up, looks out over the impressive view of Chicago.
    Tom sits, fidgeting.
    Finally, Morgan turns around.
    “Tom, you’re just not twirling my balls.”
    “Pardon me?”
    “Your work,” Wolcott continues.  “It’s not twirling my balls.”
    “Oh...”
    “I think you’ve got talent, don’t get me wrong, but I think you’re not doing consistently good work. You’re not working hard enough, thinking hard enough.”
    “Well-“
    “I’m not saying you’re complacent-“
    Tom winces at the word.
    “Well, actually I am. I need you to be more driven. I think the answer is twofold. One, if you don’t turn things around in one week, you’re fired.”
    “Fired?” Tom can barely manage.
    “Fired,” Wolcott repeats, his hand slapping the top of his desk.
    “And the second thing?” Tom says.
    “Outside help.”
    “Outside help?”
    “This is a good company, Tom. With lots of resources. Books, video, audio programs, references. I want you to look into the resource center, find out some things that will help you. In the next week I want you to start...”
    Wolcott holds his hands out, looking for just the right words.
    “...twirling your balls?” Tom offers.
    Morgan looks at Tom with a cool expression.
    “Exactly.”

Five
     
    Tom goes to a door with a sign on it reading Human Resource Center.  The office looks more like a library. Books, desks and a woman seated at a central desk. She looks up as Tom approaches.
    “May I help you?” she says.
    “Um, I’m supposed to get some information on...achievement. Improving myself.”
    “You’re Tom Goddard, right?” the woman asks, a small smile on her face that makes Tom feel uncomfortable.
    “How’d you know?” he asks.
    “Oh, we’ve been wondering when you’d come down for quite awhile now. We’ve got a file all ready for you!”
    Tom doesn’t know what to make of this.
    The woman pulls out