The Stagnant Monopoly of the Lords, Part 1
“What a quaint little vehicle you have there Doctor Patterson.” ”It’s actually Captain Patterson, you should know that by now, and this vehicle – quaint? It’s an understood classic. Your name is Billy the gate keeper and you drive a shitty rusty black Chevy conversion van. See? It’s easy.” Patterson replied to the gate keeper with a flattened smirk. By most standards that would be a generous description. He drank the last three gulps of cold coffee from his environmentally unfriendly Styrofoam cup and threw it out the window.
“And I assume you have clearance for the passenger?” Asked the gate man, face growing red.
“Did I last time?” Replied Patterson. “No. And I was forced to write up a report. That’s a huge pain in the ass for me you know.”
“Well, do it again.”
“A name at least.” He pleaded as he stared as his clipboard, shaking his head.
“It’s Mrs. Estherson of course.” Patterson stared in the forward direction, towards the darkness of the towering parking structure – the entrance to Dragomir Dungeon, which lay some 150 feet below the newly built Yankee Stadium.
“Well, Mrs. Estherson, even though you have the hairstyle of a middle-aged father of three and a general lack of feminine features, I understand the nature of the government work.” Billy the gate keeper got in his last jab as he remotely opened the secondary gate off the primary ramp. The long path that awaited them was sharply winding, lit only occasionally by high-intensity white bulbs, and should be avoided unless you’re a dignitary.
“Now, Patterson, or should I call you Frank, or Frankie, or just F.P.? – since I am the primary philanthropist involved in the construction of this facility, I’m going to need first-rate breakfast service. My hands are clammy and my eyes are spastically jumping in different directions.”
“You can do whatever the hell you want Stemsruud. This is the most advanced government torture site in the US, probably the world. Built in the image of the things Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld hold very dearly, god bless their souls, but built with Berger Stemsruud’s fortune.“
“What?!! They told me on official letterhead that this facility would be used by me for an operational headquarters for my endeavors with the option of holding charity events for underprivileged New York orphans.” Berger threw his arms up in the partial darkness and his gum flew out of his mouth into Patterson’s lap.
Patterson responded sternly as he slowed the car down near the end of the path and brushed the gum away. “Is that a lie? I don’t think so. Once we get here I’ll show you the bee and spider box, and I think you might find some fun uses for it. What it is a box filled with bees and spiders and it can really have some neat effects on people.”
Berger sat and stared for some seconds and only spoke as he was jerked forward slightly by they stopping of the car next to a 30 foot gray concrete wall. ”Well, that could be mildly intriguing by anyone’s standards I suppose. Is there a pool in there? They told me I’d have a swimming pool. I’m also pretty sure that I had a hyperbaric chamber set up to meet my sleeping demands.”
“Ummm, yeah, I think we’d have some facilities that could work out for you. We have quite a few chambers and things like that.”
Berger sighed in what seemed like half disappointment and half relief. “I guess I can’t write it off as a total loss yet. Not until I’m certain that they won’t make my eggs runny like I like them. Not too much salt either, but plenty of fresh pepper.”
“And I assume you have clearance for the passenger?” Asked the gate man, face growing red.
“Did I last time?” Replied Patterson. “No. And I was forced to write up a report. That’s a huge pain in the ass for me you know.”
“Well, do it again.”
“A name at least.” He pleaded as he stared as his clipboard, shaking his head.
“It’s Mrs. Estherson of course.” Patterson stared in the forward direction, towards the darkness of the towering parking structure – the entrance to Dragomir Dungeon, which lay some 150 feet below the newly built Yankee Stadium.
“Well, Mrs. Estherson, even though you have the hairstyle of a middle-aged father of three and a general lack of feminine features, I understand the nature of the government work.” Billy the gate keeper got in his last jab as he remotely opened the secondary gate off the primary ramp. The long path that awaited them was sharply winding, lit only occasionally by high-intensity white bulbs, and should be avoided unless you’re a dignitary.
“Now, Patterson, or should I call you Frank, or Frankie, or just F.P.? – since I am the primary philanthropist involved in the construction of this facility, I’m going to need first-rate breakfast service. My hands are clammy and my eyes are spastically jumping in different directions.”
“You can do whatever the hell you want Stemsruud. This is the most advanced government torture site in the US, probably the world. Built in the image of the things Dick Cheney and Don Rumsfeld hold very dearly, god bless their souls, but built with Berger Stemsruud’s fortune.“
“What?!! They told me on official letterhead that this facility would be used by me for an operational headquarters for my endeavors with the option of holding charity events for underprivileged New York orphans.” Berger threw his arms up in the partial darkness and his gum flew out of his mouth into Patterson’s lap.
Patterson responded sternly as he slowed the car down near the end of the path and brushed the gum away. “Is that a lie? I don’t think so. Once we get here I’ll show you the bee and spider box, and I think you might find some fun uses for it. What it is a box filled with bees and spiders and it can really have some neat effects on people.”
Berger sat and stared for some seconds and only spoke as he was jerked forward slightly by they stopping of the car next to a 30 foot gray concrete wall. ”Well, that could be mildly intriguing by anyone’s standards I suppose. Is there a pool in there? They told me I’d have a swimming pool. I’m also pretty sure that I had a hyperbaric chamber set up to meet my sleeping demands.”
“Ummm, yeah, I think we’d have some facilities that could work out for you. We have quite a few chambers and things like that.”
Berger sighed in what seemed like half disappointment and half relief. “I guess I can’t write it off as a total loss yet. Not until I’m certain that they won’t make my eggs runny like I like them. Not too much salt either, but plenty of fresh pepper.”
posted by fiestawizard at 7:01 PM
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