Corpophilia: Graffiti
12-packs of Pabst.

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“Psst… kid.. you wanna make some quick money?” The brown-suited man propped up his Samsonite® briefcase on his knee and slowly opened it in front of the youth. Inside was seventy-five dollars™ in ones; enough to fill up the case with 8 bundles of cash. The adolescent reached for the money.

“Nuh-uh… first, you’ve got to do something for me.”


“Whaddaya want?”

“You see that bus terminal over there?”

“Yeah, so?”

“If you notice, I’ve got a can of spray paint right here.”

“Yeah, I notice. Is this going somewhere?”

“Oh, a smart one, eh? Well, it just so happens that the company I represent has been losing a bit of market share – bit of advertising couldn’t hurt.”

“What company do you represent?”

“I’m from the fine people at the Pabst Brewing Company. We were wondering if you could just go over there and spray paint one of our fine brands on the terminal. Perhaps Olde English®.”? “I don’t know, man. I’ve had some Olde English®. It’s not that good. I’ve got principles here.”

“All right, would you do it for one hundred?” he said, adding another 3 bundles to the amount in the briefcase.

“Well, all right, one hundred’s a good amount.”

With that, the suited man handed over the can of Krylon®, and his newfound employee went to work.


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