Saturn Devouring his Son

The reason is because the painting was hung up right inside Richard's office. It wasn't the actual piece of course, though if he really wished it he could easily procure the money to obtain the original. Still, he liked the picture. Really liked it. Where all others obtained a sense of fear and anxiety from it, Mr. Richard felt calmed. By intimidating the others who entered the room it aided him. He prayed it would aid him tonight.

There was the expected knock. Richard opened it an out came the expected son. The two of them sat down across from each other on Richard's old mahogany table. The following conversation occurred:

“My son.”

“My father.”

A short period of silence.

“So you know why I'm here, correct?”

The father didn't answer.

“You know why I'm here, correct?”

“I have the idea.”

“I... I... I, listen, I talked about it to Marilyn. In full detail. Now I'm not saying you're lying to me, but you should-”

“I know exactly why you're here. There, I said it. I know exactly why you're here.”

“I'm of age now.”

“Yes.”

“I am the eldest.”

“Yes.”

“So, I am wishing to make the transaction now. To make it easier for us both, down the road.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“This isn't a negotiation father. This isn't a deal – hell, it isn't even a wager. This is set in stone. You promised me this a long time ago, and I've come to take-”

“I'm not giving it to you.”

“So you're going back on promise?”

“That's not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about? 'Cause I'm beginning to have a hard time-”

“When I wrote your inheritance, I declared that I would only give you it if I knew for sure you were going to be something worthwhile and do something successful with it.”

“Oh, god, please. Don't go down this route. Don't do this.”

“At the time, it seemed like nothing. Of course you were going to get the money. That's why I was so hopeful about it, that's why, at the time, it may have seemed like a promise to you-”

“It was a promise.”

“It was a promise that you'd get it if you followed the conditions. Now, I was certain you were going to be successful, but... do you even remember how I became who I am-”

“Even? What's that supposed to mean?”

“Do you know who I am? I am a deal maker. I have gotten schinded by a lot of people who I otherwise thought were really great business partners. I know how to make contracts. I've been doing this for fourty years. Fourty fucking years. I made my clam business when I was a little fuckin' hoodwink Albanian immigrant in the middle of chink town.”

“It wasn't even a business...”

“Oh, huh? Really? It wasn't? You say that like you've got some authority. Please, please – if you – if you at all have any expertise in business, or entrepreneurship, or … hell, I'll allow anything. Anything at all. Listen all your fucking accomplishments out, right here. Just spell them out to me.”

“I wrote a book.”

“No you didn't. No you fucking didn't. You didn't write shit. You said you were going to write a book and you didn't write shit. Waste of fucking talent.”

“I did write- no, now hold on. Don't you speak like that to me.”

“What? What? You're my son, not the other way around. I can say what I-”

“Don't. Speak.”

“Haha, what? Whatya fuckin' doing? Are you threatening me right now?”

“I made my own fucking fortune without you. I lived my own god damn life without you. While you were busy fuckin' two-cent Bolivian daddy's girls twenty years younger than you who probably felt like having your ancient wood was worse than rape but they did it for the money... while you were doing that... I was establishing a community. I have a fuckin' community of people coming after me, looking after me, caring about what I say, because I wrote that book. What, what you think someone cares about what you have to say? Like actually, genuinely cares? The fuckin' shareholders are just dealing with your shit by this point because they can't force you to resign since you're the piece of stubborn shit you are. And don't even get me started... don't even get me started on Tony and Lewis... ha ha, if you think Tony and Lewis like you, then you really are fuckin' delusional.”

“Well I'm certainly sure that Lewis has done a lot more in his short life than you have in your miserable one.”

“Miserable? Oh no, my life isn't miserable. It's just when I have to talk to you. When I have to talk to you it feels like Hell has invaded the land of the living.”

“I... can't... do this, not right now. Fuck this, I'm getting a drink.”

“How does it feel?”

“I said I'm getting a drink.”

“Don't walk away from me, I'm not done until I have my money.”

“I'm only walking to the alcohol cabinet, calm the fuck down.”

A short silence.

“Alright, alright. Listen, we can make a deal.”

“Yes, we can make a deal. You give me all the money I deserve.”

“No.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am not giving you one point five million dollars. But I'm willing to go a bit lower than that.”

“Oh, so when I first walk in you're adamant that you're not giving shit. Then I knock you down a few pegs and you say you're willing to negotiate?”

“I'm giving you a fair deal, don't talk shit.”

“Yes, and my fair deal is the million. The one that is owed to me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then we don't have a deal.”

A quick silence.

“Jesus, the fuck are you-”

“Listen. Listen to me. I am done playing around, alright? You come – look at me – look here, at me – I am done with the fucking deals. I am done with you. I am not standing here all damn... LOOK at me.”

“Good fucking Christ, were you trying to hit me? Calm the fuck-- AH GOD, JESUS.”

Silence.

More silence.

The door is shut.

Heavy breathing.

“What have I done.”

The painting is taken down.

Some minor scuffling.

A vault is opened.

“For the better.”

The door is opened.

The door is closed.