As Bunny, Fred, Mike and Keith entered the amphitheater for the meeting on equity indexed annuities, they noticed a large message chalked on the blackboard behind the podium. It read, “Are you ready to make money? Lots and lots of money?”
“THAT got my attention,” laughed Bunny, pointing. “It must be part of the new approved marketing material from Compliance.”
“I don’t think so,” frowned Mike. “I’m certain that they were VERY firm on not using phrases like that.”
Stopping dead in her tracks, Bunny turned back to Mike and gazed at the naïve expression on his face. Suddenly a little smile touched the corners of his mouth, and Bunny burst into hearty laughter.
“You really had me going on that one, Mike,” confessed Bunny. “Do all your clients think you’re as innocent as I do?”
“I hope so,” replied Mike, laughing along with Bunny.
Keith noticed many heads tracking Bunny as the foursome moved past the podium and into their seats. Bunny wore a tight fitting scarlet red dress that made her blond hair glow like silken gold. Her matching three inch heels elevated her above all her companions except Mike.
We have a room full of male menopause here, and Bunny’s like an overdose from a testosterone patch, chuckled Keith to himself. It looks like Bunny intends to have a bit of fun while she’s at the conference.
Settled in their seats, the Milltowners noticed a stout man in his late twenties or early thirties approaching the podium set up on the wooden stage. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt and slacks, and had almost black hair that he wore long and tied back in a ponytail. His hair, combined with his prominent hooked nose, indicated that he was of Native American descent. Turning, he looked at the blackboard, gave a gasp and a theatrical gesture of shock, and then quickly erased the words.
“Well, where did that come from? We can’t have any of THAT displayed in this meeting,” he exclaimed with a smile and a wink.
The assembled agents burst into lighthearted laughter.
“So, how’s everyone on this fine morning of the conference’s third day?” he inquired.
Sporadic grumbles surfaced from the sea of heads.
“Boy, what a tough crowd. Oh, come on, people! Last night couldn’t have been that taxing. You’re here, after all. Now, how ARE you?”
The level of response was a bit higher this time.
“Still so few lively ones out there? Okay, the first person who tells me a joke does not get this fake foam brick tossed at them.” He reached behind the podium and held up a normal looking red brick. “Who’s first?”
A cocky younger agent stood up and said, “Two vultures were circling some very flat road kill when a Southern Baptist minister happened to drive by –”
“Whoa there, pardner,” smiled the speaker. “We’d better not venture into religious jokes. And, come to think of it, some of my best friends are vultures.”
That statement generated some snickers.
“Better save that joke until after the class. Besides, this isn’t a fake brick. Good thing I said I wouldn’t toss it!” he remarked as he dropped it onto the stage floor with a loud bang.
More laughter spread around the room, indicating new life among the pale and sagging faces.
“Are we awake yet?” he asked, followed by more chuckles. “Sorry about the brick. I promise that’s the last time I’m going to lie to you today! Okay?”
A few agents in the crowd grunted a “yes.”
Pressing harder he called, “I can’t hear you!”
A few more voices joined the chorus with “yes!”
“What was that again?” the man asked, cupping a hand to one ear.
“YES!” finally came a chorus of voices from the crowd.
“Good!” he smiled. “Now that I know you’re awake, we can get started on the subject of EIAs! If you’re not asleep by the end of the class, I’ll know I did my level best.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, my name is Vernon Leaping Bull. I’m from the Northwestern district office. I do know how to ride a wild mustang, I only smoke tobacco on ceremonial occasions and, yes, this is my real hair.”
“How did you get your name?” called someone from the group.
“Oh, Vernon is an old family name,” he grinned.
“No, your last name,” laughed the man.
“Hmm, the natives are getting restless!” smiled Vernon, holding his hand above his brow. “Well, I’m sure most of you have heard that Native Americans are named for the first thing our mothers see when they leave the teepee. That is, of course, not true. But if it were, you can imagine how relieved I would be that the bull was only leaping!”
Now the room exploded into loud guffaws and giggles.
After the roar died down, Vernon continued, “If anyone would like any other personal information, please see me after the meeting. Thank you.
“Now, leaping right into our subject for today – Uh, sorry, that wasn’t intended,” admitted Vernon as he waited for his audience to calm down again.
(Excerpt from The Sum of Life Trilogy and reprinted with permission of the author John Patrick Lamont).
(Originally published at GoArticles and reprinted with permission from the author, John Patrick Lamont).
Author Resource:-
John Patrick Lamont is author of The Worst Kind of Lies, the first novel in his Sum of Life Trilogy. His novels deal with corporate corruption in the insurance industry. To learn more about his writing, read reviews and download excerpts, please visit http://www.JPatrickLamont.com or http://www.SumOfLifeBooks.com.
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