It was 2006 - and mankind was enjoying the last few decades of relative peace before the devastating Jordax War. The moon was still in orbit - not the Enforcer dominated weapons platform it is today. The Kelloggs Cereal Corporation was attempting to re brand one of its most popular products - Frosties, the sugar coated corn flake. Hiring a radical French new-media director named Jeuve de Pap, it set about creating an advertising campaign for the 21st century. Instantly, tensions between the director and Kelloggs flared. De Pap was intent on casting his multi-gender wife in the lead role - and his insistence on the inclusion of the tag line "Frosting the Beard" was in direct contest with Kelloggs wishes. We caught up with the aging director in his Paris studio apartment to hear his side of the story.
Casey - Allow me to begin by saying just what a privilege it is to be allowed to talk about this matter with you. I understand that this is a... difficult subject for you.
De Pap - *spits* Fah, those bitchees at ze Kellogg's had none of ze zoul, or ze passion that advertising requirez. I spit at them *spits again*
Casey - What was your initial concept for the advert?
De Pap - I wanted to do zomezing clazzic, somezing primal, no? I wanted to pay tribute to ze masters - Jonathan Glazer, Gus Van Zant, Juan Cabral. I wanted to make zomething... wanky. Zomething really pretentious and non-zenzical.
Casey - But Kellogg's had other ideas?
De Pap - Oui, zose bazterds at ze Kelloks said - NON! You will make it all wiz ze happy and ze fucking tiger. I had aready ordered the Snowglobes and assembled a team of fourteen Hollywood set designers. Zo, I made their fucking advert. I bashed out ze script and set out to find ze star. We held auditions all around ze world, but all of ze children were MERDE! It wasn't until my annual zoujourn to my South African estate... I discovered HIM singing ze sea chaties outside of ze bar. I had to have him - God told me to do it. He also gave me the lyrics for ze song.
Casey - So, were you pleased with the final result?
De Pap - Ze advert was sheet! An abomination to ze art!
Casey - You were credited as Alan Smithee, weren't you?
De Pap - Oui, I did not want that puddle of piss to tarnish my otherwize perfeect career. But... I did get to meet the man wize ze voice and spirit of an angel - ze Frosties Kid.
Casey - So even then, it was apparent that he was destined for great things?
De Pap - Oui. But zere were others that did not zink so. Tony. Ze Tiger. They did not get on.
Casey - Oh? Why?
De Pap - You would have to ask Tony - though I hear he is not an eezy Tiger to find. Now, get out. I have to snort Pop Rocks from the navelz of Jean Claude.
Standing in the rain with the contact number that De Pap had given me clutched in my fist, I began to realise just how deep I had gotten. I was on the trail for one of the missing relics of the early 21st century - I was not the first. "Where are They Now?" had attempted to track the tiger two years ago, but I had something they didn't. The number on the paper was unlikely to lead me straight to him, belonging to an address last used by Mr. The Tiger almost twenty years ago.
My hunch was right. The address belonged to a London apartment - less than a mile away from the center of the blast caused by the Imperator missile that destroyed the city. However, records show that a Mr. T Tiger was on one of the few escape transports that made it to Ursa Minor. It took a three month shuttle journey to find out that Tony took a private transport back to Earth after the UEE took the planet back. I tracked the transport to a salvage yard near the American East Coast crater, which led me to an apartment in New York Undercity. There was no answer at the door for a full fifteen minutes. When it finally creaked open, a familiar silhouette emerged from within. It took my entire journalistic prowess to talk my way in.
The last public archive picture of Tony - far from the worn
out husk that welcomed me in the Dark Pit of NYC
A shadow of his former self, Tony the Tiger has lived in this pit for the last decade. The walls are drowned in photos and newspaper clippings from the prime of his career. Frosties merchandise was the only decoration to be found. The Tiger himself, burdened with a soup encrusted beard - blood drying under his nostrils. It was worse than that time I met William Shatner. I had to remind him of who he was before the interview could begin, but his hatred of The Kid exploded as soon as I made mention of the advert.
Tony - The prick was brought in to replace me! Kelloggs were getting sick of my fame - it was costing them more to deal with my success than they were making off of my presence. I smelled that fucking conspiracy the second they hatched it!
Casey - So, you had problems with the advert the minute it was conceived?
Tony - *sniff* You bet your ass! It was a dark scheme to dethrone me. I was reduced to a supporting character to that grinning fucknut!
Casey - I can imagine you were pleased with the way it was received.
Tony - *laughs* And they still claimed it was a success! I swear to Christ, that day the rumour of his suicide came out was the happiest day of my life! Now this shit! Nineteen weeks at the top of the charts! People have forgotten what he put the world through with his first song. I hope you unearth the bastard.
Casey - I'm working on it.
Hidden records - which I had recently unearthed during my last expedition to The Sunken Archive - detail the fallout of the adverts unleashing upon the unsuspecting public. The outcry necessitated that the Kid be placed under the protection of the South African government. The cover story of his suicide was blown out of the water when an ex-Kelloggs employee sent a public statement to a popular Radio station. However, by the time the truth was revealed it was too late for the British public to exact their revenge. So, how did he avoid persecution for all these years, only to return to fame and glory? How did he survive the Jordax War? To find the answers, I had to go to the man himself.
Getting the interview wasn't easy. It took months of negotiation, and agreements to be made before I get ten yards near him. When the day finally came, I was chauffeured to his Enclave mansion. A marvel of glass and metal, the facility was armed with plasma turrets and guarded by a private army of war veterans and mercenaries - not to mention the latest GH-67A combat droids. The interview room itself was small and dimply lit - only two combat droids reside here, flanking each side of The Kid himself. I had been told that if it strayed from the set questions I would be liquidated in 0.37 seconds.
The towering entrance to Kid's private city - nicknamed Wonderprovince
The Frosties Kid looked terrified, his lips trembling. I was about to ask if he was okay when he leaped out of his chair - ion blaster in hand - and disabled the droids. He collapsed onto his knees and sobbed.
Frosties Kid - Ask me what I know you came to ask. We haven't got long.
Casey - Umm... okay? I wish to talk about the "They're Gonna Taste Great" advert.
Frosties Kid - I thought as much. *sob*
Casey - Did you know it was going to be as fucking shit as it was?
Frosties Kid - I... I knew. It was the money... and de Pap... said he'd do things if I didn't sing. I... I became a meme. A pathetic tool to be used by obscure bloggers three years after the meme has been funny in a desperate bid to be hip.
Casey - How did you remain undetected for so long? Why does nobody remember what you subjected the world to?
Frosties Kid - I... it was... OH GOD! I betrayed us all! I'm sorry... I'm... I'M SO SORRY!
Casey - What?! WHAT DID YOU DO!?
Frosties Kid - The... Jordax War, it was all my fault.
Casey - HOW!?
Frosties Kid - They... they contacted me. They laughed - said I would never achieve my dream of becoming a pop giant. But... *sob*... they told me... if I helped them... infiltrate the South African government... they would launch my career, make everyone forget. It's... it's my fault we're their slaves!
Casey - What the fuck are you talking about?! We defeated them!
Frosties Kid - A lie. A lie to keep us under their control. They control... everything! They let us go about our pathetic lives as they suck the planet of its thermal energy! It's more cost effective than wiping us out.
Casey - You mean, the freezing of the Northern hemisphere...?
Frosties Kid - Exactly! The guilt... I'M SORRY! Now... now they'll come back. The truth is out - THEY'LL KILL US ALL! OH GOD - FORGIVE ME!
Casey - Wait, why can I remember how bad you sucked?!
Frosties Kid - That's obvious. It's because... it's because you are... *gurk*!
The blast from the plasma cannon sailed through his chest - showering me in blood, bone and chunks of lung. The droids had recovered from the Ion blast - they shot me with a paralysis beam. As I slumped to the ground, I glimpsed out of the window - I saw the Jordax Destroyers fall from the clouds in the thousands. As the Enclave - the last bastion of mankind - was reduced to shouldering rubble, I felt the gravity of the situation. Why had I been kept alive? What would happen now? Could we defeat them? We thought we had before - but that was just a lie. A lie constructed by extra-galactic reptilian war-mongers and a child actor once featured in a television advert for a popular brand of children’s cereal. A lie designed to keep us on a leash - content in our superiority and supposed victory over what we though to be a savage and single-minded race.
The Enclave, our last pillar of freedom and my home - was reduced to this in a matter of minutes.
We can only hope that some of us survive the coming storm...
