We're Getting Kegs?

The meeting dragged on and on, quickly becoming the longest one that Proctor had ever sat through for an environmental agency. One by one the hands went down as people gave up on trying to have their opinion be heard. When they had finally gone through the last pie chart, Cuckler gave everyone an odd salute then went straight into Hobart’s office. He closed the door behind him. “I just can’t believe…this can’t be legal!” Frieda exclaimed. Proctor struggled to remember what it was exactly that Cuckler had explained that would be so illegal, but found that the meeting had been so long he could no longer particularly remember what had been discussed. “Did you mean…like with the rallies he wants to have?” an intern asked. They seemed equally baffled with the combination of charts, numbers, and A.D.D. “Not just the rallies! He’s using Article G-79 to excuse the use of alcohol at a sponsored event, but the entire point of that bi-law is to allow orphanages to get free soda for parties. Just because they use the word ‘beverage’ doesn’t mean he can presume it’s referring to beer!” Frieda explained. Proctor still could not remember when Cuckler had ever said they were going to start getting free beer. “We get to have keggers?” another intern asked, followed by a barely audible, “fuck yeah!” Frieda stood up now and resumed the spot that Cuckler had stood in. “Weren’t any of you listening during that meeting? He’s changing everything! We’re using tax money to fund parties, attacking other environmental groups for their donors, and we don’t even know what all this money is going towards! I don’t know what Dr. Hobart was thinking when he brought in this…this cousin of his, but he’s doing everything wrong!” Frieda said. There was silence as everyone looked at her, though Proctor thought he heard an intern whisper to another ‘kegs’. Proctor stood up and patted Frieda on the shoulder. “Look, I know this is strange for everyone. God knows after the fourth hour of pie charts on Generation spending habits, I thought I’d made a mistake. But the fact is, this organization hasn’t had a successful event in a year. We were a waste of money before Hobart left and I say we give this new guy Cuckler a shot. How much worse could he be then we already are?” A few of the interns nodded and only Frieda looked to still be genuinely upset. She stormed over to her desk and busied herself with the day’s mail which had just arrived. Before Proctor could even settle in his own chair, she gasped and stormed over to him with a torn open package. Inside were some bumper stickers, apparently ordered by Cuckler during the previous week. They read, ‘Fuck the Animals, Lets Save Ourselves! Join the Globo-Warriors’.