There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

There's an Economy in my Bathroom Eating Cake.

An office. The Boss (Mr Corgan) Looks dishevelled. He may occasionally swig from a bottle of whisky. His shirt is torn. He is unshaven. Crazy eyes. Enter a worker.


BOSS: Frank! Frank! Thank god you came...

WORKER: What is it Mr Corgan?

B: Frank... oh god... I need your help Frank.

W: Of course Mr Corgan... what can I do for you?

B: It's the economy Frank...

W: Well, sir, look... We all know times are tough ... if there have to be more layoffs, it'll be hard, obviously, but we'll deal with it.

B: No. Frank. You don't get it ... You're my friend, aren't you, Frank?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, we've worked together a long time. And I have enormous respect for you, obviously.

B: Exactly ... friend ... friend... (Pathetic, clawing at Frank)

W: You're scaring me slightly Mr Corgan

B: Call me Geoff, Frank.

W: Ok, Geoff. You can call me Mike, which is my actual name.

B: Ok Mike. (Pulling self together). Tell me Frank. What do you know about the economy?

W: Oh. Well, the economy is the web that binds all commercial interactions. It is a construction of society built on transactions and trust based estimates of the value of fungible assets.

B: Frank, Frank... you poor fool. What would you say if I told you the economy was a ravenous beast, fueled only by an insatiable hunger?

W: Well, Mr Corgan, I'd say you weren't the first to use such a metaphor, but it's a rather negat...

B: FRANK. What if I then went on to tell you it's not a metaphor...

W: I'm sorry?

B: What if I told you that the economy REALLY IS a ravenous beast...

W: Ummm

B: What's more a beast that is living in my bathroom...

W: Sir, I would say that perhaps it's been a long week, and perhaps you need a lie down and some mood stabilisers of some kind.

B: Frank. Open that door.

W: This door?

B: Yes.

(Frank opens door with only a small trace of trepidation)

W: JESUS! (Slamming door quickly) What the fuck was that?

B: That, Frank, is the economy. That is the she beast at whose tit we all have sucked.

W: The hair! The fat! The pustulous boils!

B: Not an attractive sight, I will admit. But it was not always like this.

W: How did it get in here?

B: I brought it here ... But then it was just a small, heavily regulated fiscal market! I guess I took pity on it. I fed it on dividends, cash deposits... but then cash became scarce ... by this time it was strong, stronger than I could handle, and I had to search elsewhere for food ... I made do with derivatives, unstable futures ... in the last two years it has feasted on a sickening swill of collateralised debt packages ... and still it asks for more...

Needs an ending. I thought that the boss will probably end up feeding the worker to the economy, but that might confuse the whole thing. Help? Also, how does my economic bullshit sound?