Yet another, secret conversation that took place inside the office of Willie G.;
W.G.; "How can we make it seem like Harley Owners are "feared" by the Police?"
Lackey; "They're not."
W.G.; "Well, they get more speeding tickets than any other brand of motorcycles."
Lackey; "Actually, they get the least."
W.G.; "Are you telling me, it's no longer Biker to ride a Harley?"
Lackey; "It's never been Biker to ride a Harley. And actually, you stopped targeting Biker sales since the late 80's."
Stenotypist; "That's becasue they don't buy new bikes every year. They work on their own bikes for some reason?"
Lackey; "She's right..."
Stenotypist; "My Husband's a lawyer and he just bought a new Electra Glide to take us to Sturgis next year."
W.G.; "You don't say?"
Lackey; "How does he like it?"
Stentypist; "He hasn't learned to ride it yet."
W.G.; "What? Ok. Listen, let's get back on track. I want our next ad to have a Cop standing by the side of the road having just pulled over a big strong Biker. And, the Cop's pissing his pants he's so scared of the guy ok? Make him look like the Singer of the Village People."
Lackey; "The Cop?"
Stenotypist; "Wasn't he the Indian?"
W.G.; "? No one rides an Indian anymore."
Lackey; "They're back again."
Stenotypist; "The Village Poeple?"
Lackey; "No, Indian Motor...."
Fist slams on desk.
W.G.; "Shutup! I want the Cop standing by the side of the road pissing his pants, ok?"
Lackey; "I don't get ...?"
Stenotypist; "Don't worry. I got it."
W.G.; "Right then. Get it done ASAP! I'm off to bid on Wacko Jacko's hyperbolic chamber."
Foot steps. Door closes.
Stenotypist; "You know now that I think of it. My Husband bought a Yamaha Royal Star..."
Lackey; "... I used to have a thing for the Construction Worker."