Quoted By:
The old man wipes a patch of sweat onto the sleeve of a moth-eaten old suit jacket he hadn’t worn in years. The law office was sweltering. Stuffy. It reminded him of the jungles he spent his younger years hacking and tromping through–the ones in Nam.
Needless to say, Chuck Fontaine was uncomfortable. The present company did little to assuage that.
“To review,” drones the owner of the office in a tone that could only be compared to a mosquito buzzing too close to someone’s ear, “Groundskeeper Chuck Fontaine, per this signed and witnessed legal agreement, shall remain the custodian and retain ownership over <span class="mu-s">HAUSER ISLAND</span> and all of its pertinent subsidiaries including, but not limited to: <span class="mu-s">HAUSER MANOR, THE DOMINGUEZ HISTORICAL VILLA, CAMP KEYSTONE AND COYOTE, TO BE OPERATED IN THE SUMMER SEASON, AND THE WAMPANOAG HISTORICAL VILLAGE.</span>”
Adjusting the thin spectacles threatening to slide off of his nose, the lawyer sniffs before continuing in his robotic voice.
“Should the aforementioned fail to maintain satisfactory upkeep on said properties, their ownership, debts, and all other responsibilities shall be handed over to the <span class="mu-s">GOOD BOY DOGGIE BONES CORPORA-</span>
“<span class="mu-s">WOOOOOOO!</span> U S A! U S A! U S-”
The sudden hooting and hollering of the woman across the table is only curbed when the suited and sunglasses-wearing woman standing calmly at her side gives her a gentle pat on the shoulder. Chuck didn’t like her–he didn’t like a lot of things, of course, but even his old boss was somewhat tolerable at times… or at the very least predictable.
The <span class="mu-i">Noveau Riche</span>, on the other hand… Well, you don’t show up to a business meeting wearing a <span class="mu-s">SOLID GOLD SUIT</span>, especially when you’re clearly several months pregnant.
Putting everyone back on track with a single ‘<span class="mu-i">ahem</span>,’ the lawyer continues. “Per this document, <span class="mu-s">GOOD BOY DOGGIE BONES</span> will be given custodianship over the <span class="mu-s">HAUSER PHARMACEUTICALS</span> assets located on, and BELOW, the island.”
A cheeky, taunting laugh dances across the table and into Chuck’s sour face. “That’s right, bub,” The gold-clad girl croons as she gives her <span class="mu-s">GOLD SUSPENDERS</span> a smug snap, “Say buh-bye to your shit! The future is <span class="mu-i">NOW</span>, old man!”
“He’s uh… he’s not the <span class="mu-s">CEO</span>, Stan…” Mutters the girl standing next to her like a mother explaining the plot of a movie. “Pretty sure Hauser was thrown off a cliff or something…”
“Huh. Welp, worse ways to die, right?” Shrugs this ‘<span class="mu-i">Stanley</span>’ as if her yoga instructor just called to reschedule. “So let’s get down to brass tracks, gramps:” Segues the girl as she places her <span class="mu-s">GOLD SHOES</span> on the lawyer’s table, “What’s the scoop on this <span class="mu-s">PORTAL DEVICE</span> anyways?”
“Go powder your nose, bro.” Though a bit off-put by the suited woman’s sudden command, the lawyer assents.
>CONTD.
