To set the scene: I was sitting in my well-appointed office, legs up on a mahogany desk, wondering in what order I'd like to bang the female cast of the O.C. this week (I was going by height, but considered switching to alphabetically). Suddenly, Youtube CEO Ronny “Hardwood” Youtube bursts into my office out of breath and tells me that he’s in a bad way.
“A bad way?” I ask, gently sloshing a snifter of Bavarian brandy, “what is this, Manhattan in the 20’s? Out with it Hardwood.”
A few sips and a shitload of small talk later, I am informed that Ronny’s eponymous sketch-delivery service
is ailing for lack of quality content. He tells me they’ve tried to drum up some yuks with some sort of competition
, but all they’ve attracted are schmucks
Once again, I reprimand him for the 20’s terms with a quick rap from my leather riding crop. We’re in bed at this point, but that’s inconsequential; it was time for me to hit the “A’s” and I'm not one to let a little business interfere with my pleasure.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Ronny the Bear
. I will deliver to you the finest sketch available, and below cost. It will afflict the viewers with such riotous laughter that they shoot themselves in the fucking face just to make their sides stop aching.”
Ronny thought that was a bit much, so we scaled it back 10%, shot it that afternoon, edited it that night over Chocotinis, and had a team of man-slaves heft it to the Youtube.
Naturally, the 40,000-dollar prize that goes along with the contest doesn’t interest a man of my stature, but I suppose I could use the bricks of cash to build a small house for my Pekinese.
Help that small cash house