Leonard Mackerton is the world's worst venture capitalist. He stands in front of the CEO and Board of Directors for Sanctified Steaks, Incorporated. His ill-fitted suit is even more depressing because it was custom-measured and tailored for Leonard--but he just has one of those bodies on which nothing will ever hang gracefully. You could put a silk toga on Leonard Mackerton, and he would look like someone had wrapped him in a beaten tarpaulin.
By contrast, the CEO of SS, Inc. looks relatively refined. Despite his wealth and power, Mr. Roquefort is not a bad man, and he uncomfortably glances around the room before raising his hand slightly. "Um," he says. "Let me see if we have this straight, Leonard:"
"You want to take all the bits of the cow that we don't use, squeeze them into tubes of indiscriminate flesh, and then offer them to our customers as a light meal?"
"Exactly!" cries Leonard. "Even better: put them on a piece of bread--or two pieces!--and add ketchup! It's handheld, it's easy to make, and it's cheap. It's like a donut hole, for meat. You'll make millions! We'll--" he adds slyly "--make millions."
Roquefort sighs and, again, looks around the room. No-one is going to rescue him from this one. He takes a drink of water.
"You've heard of hot dogs, right, Leonard?"
Leonard looks puzzled. "I'm not following you." One of the board members begins snickering softly behind his hand.
"Hot dogs. Frankfurters. Meat products that are sold on a bun, with condiments."
"Yes, yes," says Leonard. "I know, hot dogs. But seriously: what about my idea?"
The CEO leans forward. "We'll be in touch." he says, and nods Security forward.