Look, I’m not one of those Ayn Rand Atlas Shrugged heartless corporate monsters who think that poor people should be executed and their bodies sold to zoos for meat but I worked HARD to get where I am. I get that people resent me, they should resent me. I WON. My point is that I earned it.
You know how hard it is to get into Cornell University? Nobody handed that to me. You know how hard it is to get into Georgetown University Law Center? I did that. Me. There was no hand up or bootstrap for Gary. I did it all on my own.
Capitalism isn’t a perfect system, there’s no question about that, however by and large it’s a system that does what it’s designed to do – reward people like me (Gary) who deserve it and punish people that don’t bother to try. Did I use magic to get where I am today? Of course I did! What kind of moron wouldn’t use every advantage at their disposal to get ahead?
You know how hard it is to learn magic? In all of my Ivy League education I only met a handful of people that could even grasp the basic concept of how magic works. Why would I go through all the trouble of mastering that incredible difficult and dangerous skill if I wasn’t going to use it to my benefit? That’s the behavior of a mentally ill person.
I used my magic to my benefit because that’s what you’re SUPPOSED to do in society. I still am doing it. I’m not done yet. I am the American Dream. I have a lot more to achieve and the drive to do it. At least I will if one particular mentally ill person leaves me alone.
Miss Kistenmeier knocked on my door even though it was open. I love the way she dresses. Those clothes look like they’re painted on her. That’s the main reason I hired her. She’s not one of these women who clomps around in chunky shoes and baggy men’s slacks, she understands the importance of image. The way she looks reflects on me, and I won’t stand for anyone making me look bad.
“Mister REDACTED, there’s a . . . person here to see you.”
Even if I hadn’t noticed her nose scrunch up like a sexy cute little bunny girl I would have known from her tone of voice who the person was. Only one person in my life (and tangentially at that) can elicit that kind of revulsion from people. Miss Kistenmeier looked a little worried for having disturbed me, which is good, she should be a little worried when she talks to me. I’m her boss. And a man.
“I’m sorry Mister REDACTED, but she said it was an emergency.”
I sighed “That’s fine Miss Kistenmeier, send her in.”
Grace. What a joke that name is. She has all the grace of a dump truck full of broken hammers and waste from a construction site. She stomped in like the Iron Giant and then sat down unbidden across from me. Like she owned the place. Like this was her office. She shows me no respect. I don’t think she knows what respect is.
Miss Kistenmeier asked me with her eyes if she should have security stand-by. I told her without speaking that it was fine, she could leave and shut the door. We have a special way of communicating. I can read her like a book. She doesn’t even need to say anything when she wants me to squeeze her ass. I just know.
I won’t lie, I felt a little fear at the sight of Grace. Any rational person would. She’s a psychopath and you never know what something like that might do. She lives in a car for Christssake. Not even the nice car that I bought her, bought her with money. She doesn’t have much magical talent, she can’t hold a candle to me, but she has enough that she should be gainfully employed and have the wherewithal to be able to throw on some make-up.
I’ll deny it if you ask me, but I felt a little aroused as well. There’s nothing physically attractive about her. At all. But there’s something about her attitude that gets a little rise out of me. It must be the reason why some men like to be dominated, it’s just a reversal of the natural order that it has a taboo appeal to it. I’m not into that but sometimes something is so bizarre that it provokes an involuntary physical reaction.
“You really should make an appointment if you want to speak with me.”
She nodded, her head bobbling uncontrollably like one of those little toys, I don’t think she could do anything ladylike if she had to “Yes, I know how valuable your time is.”
Sarcasm. The weapon of choice for small minds. My time IS valuable and she knows that. She’s trying to throw me off my game. She doesn’t look like much but she has a type of low animal cunning about her that can catch people by surprise.
“Do you need me to co-sign a loan for you Grace?” Slam-dunk! Nailed her. She’s the kind of woman that you constantly need to be throwing chin-music at to keep her in line.
She looked at me right in the eyes, in a way no woman ever should look at a man “I don’t want to waste a lot of time kibitzing with you Gary, give me the skull and I’ll be on my way.”
Rocket Cat 