In a Deep South state like Sauvagine, a rather small town like Steam Lake can be considered a major capital. That was mainly due to Slaughter Farms, one of the world's great names in agribusiness, as well as benefactor to Slaughter-Dane College. Slaughter had come late to the poultry industry but had grown wildly successful ever since, and Steam Lake -- so named for an old artificial lake which once offered private harbor for Mississippi River steamboats -- was content to live in Slaughter's shadow.
The skinny but otherwise lovely Whitney Whistler was herself a newcomer to Steam Lake, and she was pleased to have easily secured an interview with Sledge Slaughter, the young new heir apparent to Slaughter Farms. She had to confess to herself that she found his large paneled office a bit intimidating, although Slaughter himself was a perfectly charming gentlemen, who immediately got them each a Coke.
Whitney settled into a large upholstered chair. "Before anything else, Mr. Slaughter -- "
"Please, just call me Sledge. My father is 'Mr. Slaughter.'"
"Fair enough. Sledge, I just want to congratulate you on successfully returning from Iraq, and I'm sure that both the staff and readership of the Steam Lake Picayune would like to thank you for your service."
"I appreciate that, thank you."
"Sledge, I have to ask you -- your company is called Slaughter Farms. Is Farms really accurate? I've seen some of your facilities. You look more like Slaughter Factories."
Sledge chuckled. "Robot Chicken is only a TV show, Miss Whistler, not a reality. We raise chickens and turkeys. That makes us a farm."
"Yes, but the way you raise them, it's so ... "
"Scientific? We're just keeping pace with the times."
"Speaking of science ... have you ever met Dr. Felix Fang?"
"No, I confess I've never had that pleasure. My father has, though."
Sledge sat back a little to point up, indicating the huge oil portrait behind him. It was of Caesar Slaughter, current chairman and CEO of Slaughter Farms. His countenance was stern and glowering.
"Yes, but your father never grants interviews. So he has met Dr. Fang?"
"On numerous occasions."
"What is your personal stand on the allegations that Dr. Fang is some sort of -- "
"Asian spy? My personal stand is the company stand: total nonsense. Felix Fang is a proud and patriotic American citizen, and untold millions of hungry American consumers have benefited from his genius."
"Speaking of genius, are you aware of a survey that has been done of the student body of Slaughter-Dane? It suggests that a diet heavy in Slaughter Farms products eventually has cumulative effects."
"Such as?"
"There is a statistically significant boost to the bust size of female seniors at Slaughter-Dane."
Sledge dared a half-smile. "And are there any complaints?"
"That's hardly the point. If Dr. Fang's biochemical regimen eventually affects the bodies of your female consumers, that needs to become public knowledge."
"Of course -- but it needs to be proven first, Miss Whistler. Besides ... maybe it would make more sense for someone to be examining the milk."
"I think you know what I mean, sir. Slaughter Farms is known to be willing to do anything to increase breast meat in its chickens and turkeys."
"And a good thing too, because we are right now on the verge of meat substitutes which can revoltuionize everything, which can take on the beef and pork industries while offering the American consumer a much leaner, and cheaper, alternative -- and that too will be a product of Slaughter Farms science."
"Which is extrmely hush-hush. I would have better luck investigating a nuclear missile facility, than I've had around here."
"The competition, and the industrial espionage, is intense, Miss Whistler. I am truly sorry." Sledge pointedly checked his watch. "And now if you will excuse me, Miss Whistler. I've enjoyed our little chat. My secretary will see you out."
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Mon Jun 08 08:56:50 2009