Into the Greazerverse


rating: +20+x

The lights came on, and the board room was hit with the cold glare of the fluorescent bulbs. The table was lined with chairs, most of which had something in them. At the head of the table, a cloaked figure spoke in a raspy voice.

"I hereby call this meeting to order. All rise for the Greazeburger corporate anthem."

Many of the people around the table stood up and faced the blank screen that would have had a projector attached to it if not for recent budget cuts. They stood in silence for a few minutes, and then sat back down.

"Meeting adjourned. See you all next year."

A man in a grey suit, the one tasked with transcribing this meeting, the one who wrote the very words you're reading now, hopped up and whispered something in the speaker's ear.

"Ah, I seem to have lost track of time. Roger Greaze here tells me this is only the beginning of the meeting. First order of business, sales reports. Let's hear them, starting on the right."

The speaker motioned to their left, and the person seated directly across from them stood up.

"Hi, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#95)"

"Hi Martin", the entire crowd said in unison.

"In my department, we've been having some trouble with a group called the SCP Foundation."

A murmur of agreement and nods of understanding waved through the crowd.

"They've been trying to drive us out of business, allegedly to preserve something they call 'normalcy'. I've talked it over with the legal department, but without a blood sample from O5-1 they can't do anything about it. "

Martin sat back down and the head of the table spoke once more.

"Disappointing, but not the worst report we've had so far. Next planet."

Another person stood up, this time three seats to the left.

"Hi, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#721984568)"

"Hi Martin", the entire crowd droned.

"On my planet, the SCP Foundation lost a lot of their power due to, just let me check my notes here, yes, the North Korean government. Something to do with an explosion."

Many of the attendees scribbled in their notepads.

"Anyway, the Foundation has to abide by Earth laws now, while we're still only bound under the Charter of the East India Company due to a typographical error last time I watched Pirates of the Caribbean. This has given us a significant edge over the competition, leading us to a successful third quarter. Just one more of those and we'll have a full dollar."

Martin sat back down and the head of the table talked again.

"Excellent report, I'm sure you'll get that dollar soon. Next planet."

A small crab attempted to stand higher, but then opted to wave their claws in the air to get everyone's attention.

"Hi, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#6010)"

"Hi Martin", the entire crowd spoke at once.

"While my reality has been quarantined by most interdimensional travel agencies, I was deemed safe to travel after receiving my vaccinations. My reality turns every animal into crabs, which has lead to a significant drop in sales. Most crabs simply don't need our products."

Several people in the crowd muttered their feelings of disapproval, but they were quitted down by a glare from the head of the meeting.

"I suggest we expand our catalogue to market to crabs as well, giving more diversity to our consumers and less diversity to our abstainers."

Another board member raised their hand.

"I would just like to point out that the description of Martin's reality implies that many of us would qualify as animals. I'd like to request a recess to update my insurance plan."

"Motion denied."

"Which motion, mine or Martin's?"

"Next space rock."

The board members looked over to the next chair, which was empty save for a few flowers and candles.

"Oh, right. Martin is no longer with us. A moment of silence for our coworker, and someone light those candles. I don't want any mosquitoes getting in here."

The moment passed, and the next person stood up.

"Hello, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#XXVII)"

"Hi Martin", the entire group made word sounds.

"In my division we've also had experience with the Foundation, but in a different way. One of the Foundation's overseers misfiled some paperwork while eating one of our burgers, and now we have full legal power over her soul. So far we've used this as a bargaining chip for allowing our anomalous business to stay open, protection from the Global Occult Coalition, and making Friday night poker games more interesting."

"Excellent work. How are sales doing?"

"Oh, we haven't sold anything since 1982 when the Soviets took over and instated a communist utopia. But on the bright side we get to call each other comrade."

"Unfortunate. You'd better find a way to turn a profit, otherwise you might end up like Martin. Next planet."

Martin paled even more than they already were and sat back down. The next person stood up.

"Hi, my name is Morton and I'm from Earth (#)"

A few confused glances were shared between the board members.

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"….. Next planet."

Another person stood up, or at least extended their amorphous body upwards.

"Hi, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#29271)"

"Hi Martin", the entire board chanted as one.

"In my Earth, the SCP Foundation took a more liberal approach to containment, so we've actually had very little competition in the industry. However, revenue took a significant downturn in the last quarter. I had our market research team take a look, apparently all of our customers died."

"Hmm, have marketing look into why they all died, see if it was anything worth investing in. Next planet."

The quivering blob receded back into their chair, and the people sitting around the table all looked to the chair of the meeting.

"Oh right, it looks like it's my turn."

The hooded figure stood up, and withdrew their cloak revealing a face identical to almost every other Martin in the room. Most of the onlookers gasped. One fainted.

"Hi, my name is Martin and I'm from Earth (#2)"

"Hi Martin", the entire group spoke.

"In my division, time was displaced and our entire corporation has been aging much faster than normal. This has lead to greatly increased interest rates as well as the rapid decay of most of our staff. As you can plainly see, my face has been horribly disfigured in my old age."

Martin gestured to their pale, slimy complexion and was met with sounds of disgust from the onlookers.

"Additionaly, these temporal alterations have made our profit reports much more frequent. In our last quarter, we made a total of sixteen cents. And now in our most recent quarter we made a full twenty-five cents. Oh, looks like we've made another thirteen. Uh-oh, that next quarter lost four cents. Take five everyone, I'm going to go fire someone."

Martin left the table and opened a door, walking into a bright flash of light and releasing a burst of energy oddly reminiscent of the distinct taste of the Extra Cheesy Greaze Burger (now available in theaters near you).

As the meeting-goers began to chatter amongst themselves, Martin jumped up on the table and drew a pistol from their rain jacket.

"Nobody move! You're all under arrest for associating with a known anomalous threat!"

The windows shattered as a team of soldiers rappelled into the office room, training their weapons on the immobile Greazeburger officials.

"On Earth (#989172), Greazeburger was bought out by the SCP Foundation, and I'm taking all of you down with me as part of our viral marketing campaign!"

The Mobile Task Force began restraining the guests with handcuffs, except for Martin, who's eight legs were not well equipped for human handcuffs.

They even restrained Roger, who was forced to behin typing with his nose.

martin jumped out of their chair and dove for the window, but was grabbed by one of the mtf agents.

''yuo can't arrest me, you didn't read my rights1 iin my planet, tha's a punishable offence.''

martin swung a right hook atht eh agent, nd they went down. martin broke free of their restraints and rushed over to help martin, who had leapt onto one of the agents and bit their face off.

martin and the other agents started shooting the hostages, but martin was able to flip the table over to protect those who were still tied down. within minutes, the meeting had decended into battle. still better than last year when martin had tried to show everyone pictures of their dog..

realising shooting at the table would get them nowhere, the mtf charged and attacked, quickly starting a fistfight with each agent and greazeburger staff member. punches were thrown, blood and oil was spilled, p.;o9ik s0me0ne punched the typewriter by mistake and the key st0pped w0rking

martin ripped 0ff their shirt and stuffed it in a b0ttle 0f greaze juice, then they threw it at the mtf. the expl0styuiokln rocked the building, and knocked the o key back into place. Martin ran over and untied Roger, allowing them to go back to typing with their hands.

Now they could transcribe this fight properly.

Martin threw a chair at Martin, who fell backwards and knocked into Martin, who snapped around and clubbed Martin with the butt of a rifle they'd taken off one of the Foundation soldiers. Another soldier pulled out a cannister of tear gas, but Martin grabbed it and threw it out the broken window before punching the soldier in the face.

A voice boomed over the office, as Martin returned from their corporate mission on Earth (#2).

"What is going on here? This environment isn't conductive to profitable business!"

Martin pulled the fire alarm, showering the whole office in greaze.

"The actions of this office do not reflect the values of Greazeburger Inc. An internal investigation will be authorized to determine the source of these misguided actions."

Martin lit a match, igniting the greaze that had covered everyone in the room, and

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