All the Rage

clark: Apologies for the language. (Pause) Take Rutledge here. Right now I could probably punch my fist through his chest, rip out his heart, and swallow it whole, and I wouldn’t even need to chew. (To Rutledge) Hypothetically speaking.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, composing himself.

clark (trying to sound calm): All I’m saying is . . . times change. It’s like when you were a teenager and you thought Gauguin was an asshole because he took off on his family and went to Tahiti to paint and bed beautiful native women. Am I right?

All nod vigorously.

clark: And then, you grow up, and when you’ve got two or three kids and a mortgage and credit card debt, well, you look at things a little differently. Am I right? He’s not such a deadbeat after all. Nope, you’re downloading Gauguin screen savers, wearing Gauguin T-shirts, and, if they made the stuff, you’d be brushing your teeth with mother-loving Gauguin-brand toothpaste.

Rutledge writes “Gauguin Toothpaste” on his pad of paper.

clark: That’s because life didn’t turn out the way you hoped. That’s because life never turns out the way we hope. You think I dreamed of being a chemist? I wanted to be a best-selling poet. Look at us: war on terror. Country falling apart. The Arctic melting. The happy crowd will tell you to pop a pill and chill out. I don’t agree. The folks at Axxochem don’t agree. We say, “All aboard the pain train!”

A slide showing King Kong rolls up. It reads “Monkey Anger.”

clark: Allow me to introduce Swiftox, a slow-release noradrenalin detonator that keys into the nervous system and unleashes the “monkey anger” dna in all of us.
rutledge (eyes alight): Monkey anger!
clark: With Swiftox, chemically infuriated people will be more productive, their depression will lift, and society will thrive on a mass outrage not seen since the Age of Enlightenment. And wait till you hear the slogan.
rutledge: I think Clark’s onto something.
kesselring (trying to get fired up): What do you know, Rutledge, you stupid prick!

Rutledge hesitates. Then . . .

rutledge: Yeah!

He gives her a high-five. The boardroom erupts in a cacophony of profanity. Donuts are thrown. Chairs are smashed.

clark (grinning): “Swiftox — because you should be angry.”