THE WICKED ANACONDA

This is Fletcher. I have taken the fifth.

You can't just ring me up and tell me you've taken the entire top floor, just like that!

You know I can. It is written...

No heat! You do know that right?…which is why we had to shut her down. She’s been idle for years.

Don’t mind. It’s the space.

Exactly! What will we use for storage? We have valuable inventory...

Valuables? What valuables?

The piano, for one thing...the Queen Anne...the…

Whatever you think you have, please put them in the basement, as it was intended to Function - As Storage!

The basement? The basement is spoken for.

The speakeasy?

It's ‘A Lounge’. And These are some serious investors. Serious!...investors. A deal is already in the works...

Well do the unspeakable and un-speak the

speakeasy.

You cannot mandate two floors! It's not the way it's

written and certainly not the intent! If you wish...Or

come "to prefer" the basement, I am sure the

investors would take a giant leap at the top floor

which would be financially beneficial for everyone. If you'd let me do my job...I could…

I disagree, Chester, I suggest the catacombs below

provides them the perfect solution to their under-

ground operation. Besides, I find the older I get, the more claustrophobic I become. Must be fear of the grave...I can not survive underground. I need to see this sky, feel this light...before they shovel dirt on me I'd love to breathe-a-little…a lot.”

Oh come now, we're not 'on the way out' just

because mum and pops succumbed...you got death on the mind.

No, but it makes you think about it, doesn't it? You read about it everyday and one day that’s you in column two, section four.

What?

We're next. Who else is there? The four of us

...have been divided by two...

.

We've been Subtracted from...not divided. We have lost half the family to age and attrition, but we are not divided.

Thank you for that reassurance, and I share our

bond as well. Now, I'll need a crew up here to help

clear this away.

A crew? If it's a crew you need I suggest that's your

problem. The staff is busy with the basement, and

besides, how does one move the Grand piano and

those monstrous armoires. That freight lift hasn't

operated in eight years. It's still stuck near three, or four…

with furnishings aboard... Cost more to fix the damn

thing. Write it off !. Mother decreed...so that means the mess is yours to clean.

Very well. It'll have to be the balcony...

I'm not spending good money after bad. Are you suggesting A Crane?! Are you mad?

Will you at least have the decency to have staff

close off that back alley with ropes, signs,

roadblocks flashers..."watch out from above", Hard Hat, and all that.

What!?! You can't just toss things off the roof!

I can, and I will, if I must. This is my space cluttered

with eons of collected crap and I want it clear do you hear? It’s company property and this my private space. So when I yell "watch out below" , it better damn well be – CLEAR - below. You tell them that - I want no one hurt. We’re just dumping our junk, here, officer. Anybody wants ‘donations’ come on up and get it now! … just be prepared to bear the brunt of getting it down the stairs. So get on it.

Now?! Right now!? How is that going to happen? I’m in the middle of a deal! Let me get some things organized...

Three days is all I'll wait, then it's bombs away.

You always were a selfish prick.

Handle this like a man and stop being a little bitch.

You get to run the Empire, but not This Region, Brother. This is my region. I so declare.

As you shall BE declared as "Certifiable"!

By whom? Another quack? Sorry, jack, but I'm taking my life back.

Oh my...he's scats.

He just may, but he needs his space…

For what exactly?

To work ...to create...

That's a phase sure to last a few weeks at least, then what do we do with your cavernous 'Space'?…your Light?…your Air? Hmm? Then what?

If I flame out you can always turn it back into the

Ballroom, I suppose.

...yes...yes, I can, can't I? Let me call you back.

Why? Are we done with the conversation here? Did

we reach some agreement?

I need to clarify a few things. It won't take long.

I'm expecting a call from...the investors. I may be

tied up on the phone, so leave word with Helen if you need anything.

Damn fine woman....that Hellen...I should have hired her.

You might have, had you been working here all

those years. If you had, you just might have had her as your own by now.

In reality, She would possess me. Yes, I will leave word with the lovely Helen. Are those legs really that long?

What? That's a rather stupid question! You can see

for yourself, why ask me how long....?

When she wraps them around you, do they enfold

you?

Yes. Yes, they do. And they are oh so tight and

smooth, like some wicked anaconda she can

squeeze the life out of you, and laugh low and lusty

as she does so, and she says things no woman has ever dared tell a man. It's madness...the lust. If

only...she could be yours...er, could HAVE been...if

you'd been...HERE!

Thanks for the sexual reverie, brother… for my benefit no doubt, because in truth you are not capable of

complicit carnal debauchery. Haha...'wicked anaconda' –indeed, Ladyslayer! The Rogue CEO – the Devil, himself!

But you are ?! …There's my other line. I will be taking

this call and making all  the calls on this deal. Is that

clear?

Call away brother. I'll get in touch with Helen...

Do. Touch away…don’t burn your finger tips…(Click)

Ten minutes into his call, and after some formalities, Chester is feeling confident the deal is about to be sealed, when there's a knock on his Inner-office door. Helen opened quietly, gracefully cautious, expertly silent, and pointed to the window behind him. He was at first, puzzled, and annoyed at her interruption, but then Helen gestured 'telephone to ear' and pointed to the ceiling. Chester understood, but was determined to avoid Fletcher's call. Not, Now. Helen,  she stood so uncharacteristically anxious and wide-eyed, persistant, until Fletcher was forced to

turn and look out his window, and did so as the

grand piano flew past on its way to the grand

finale below.

Motherfucker! He screamed, as he strung a profoundly long strand of inelegant obscenities.

There was a long cold silence on the other end of the call… Chester sensed the menace, and

abruptly cut short his tirade coming back to the surface of his reality..." I…I apologize..I..."

Do we have a problem?

No, no. Something just fell from the roof…things need some cleaning up. It's being dealt with. It will not be a detraction, I assure you.

You want this detraction off your roof? I have

 "movers ".... strong men to do the job.

Chester, aware Helen was standing so still in the room, apparently still in a bit of shock, motioned that she was excused, and to shut the door behind her. She snapped out of her ‘state’, regrouped, and efficiently, exited.

"So? You need a mover? Two? ”

"I don't know. I..."

How big is the object?"

The “Object’?

Yes. Your problem. How big? Big like ‘piano – big’?

Funny choice of words…

It’s just a measurement. So how big?

About...my size."

Oh,…ha! One man should do. 

You know your crew...

And, if he does...?

The ballroom is available.

Chester, you are the Devil, you.

And WE have a deal.

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