Simpsons Porn Story: That Damned Letter Chapter 2

The sound of someone knocking on the office door drifted over to Monty.

Come in. He called, still watching the workers below him.

A minute later, Burns heard a tray being set on his desk, and the soft sound of papers being set beside the tray.

I have your lunch, and your mail. Davies said.

Excellent. Montgomery said, as he turned his chair around to face his desk. He picked up his sandwich. Open those for me. I can’t do it while I eat.

Davies was tempted to roll his eyes. The similarities never ended. Obviously, the young Burns had seen his father at work multiple times. Instead of eye-rolling, Davies picked up the first envelope and tore it open.

Who is it from? Burns asked before biting into his sandwich.

Davies looked at the front of the envelope. It’s from the Selective Services.

He opened the letter as Monty Burns looked up at him, completely horrified. He couldn’t seem to speak, not that he could think of anything to say.

He watched as Davies looked at the letter than the envelope contained. You’re being drafted.

Montgomery Burns stood up and snatched the letter from his assistant. Obviously, you ninny! He shouted. He dropped back into his chair and read the letter over. It explained where he had to go, and when he had to go there. The rest didn’t seem important at the moment.

Tossing the letter on the desk, Burns weakly dismissed Davies. When the door shut, Burns stood up and looked out the window.

You don’t know how lucky you are. He muttered, resting one hand on the glass as he stared down at his employees. Down there, eating and having a good time. Don’t you know there’s a war on? He asked angrily. He turned around the punched the chair, but it hurt his hand.

Blast! He said, rubbing his hand. He leaned on his desk and stared at it for a while.

If I’m going to suffer, Burns growled, curling his hands into fists and closing his eyes, then so will everyone else!

Whirling around, Burns stood and waited until everyone came back inside from their lunch break. When the last straggler was inside, he smiled to himself. He was going to make the most of this.

Montgomery Burns left his office. Davies. Come. He said curtly as he walked past his assistant’s desk. Davies got up, and followed Burns at a decent distance.

They got the break room first. Five employees sat there, talking. They didn’t stop when Burns entered., after all, Burns looked nothing like his father, so they didn’t know him. Burns cleared his throat a couple times to get their attention.

Finally, one looked up. Can I help you? He asked.

You can. Burns furrowed his eyebrows. I am Charles Montgomery Burns. He explained, setting a hand on his chest. The horrific light of comprehension winked on each face in the room. Burns smiled. Yes, your new boss. As you know, my father was killed and I got this mill in his will. He chuckled at the rhyme, then continued. I am also unfortunate in the fact that I am the perfect age for drafting. I got my letter this morning.

He paused to look at the faces of the employees. They didn’t understand what he was getting at. since I won’t be around, this place is useless to me. I’m selling the Atom Mill. You’re all fired.

Burns didn’t wait for them to reply. He left, a sadistic grin spreading across his face.

As he walked through the halls, he came upon another employee simply walking by. You’re fired! Burns said, pointing at him and walking past, ignoring the man’s confused objections.

He went through the whole mill in that manner. He personally told each person that they were fired. More often than not, he didn’t explain who he was or why they were fired. He let Davies sort that out. It was easier that way. Besides, Davies was earning his paycheck!

When Burns finally arrived back at his office, Davies knew what was coming.

I’m fired. I know.

You’re not fired until you sort through all this mess. There are paychecks to be dispensed, and probably a few more snags left to deal with. Deal with them. I’ll have someone come down to help you, sell the mill, and fire you later on. I’m going home early.

Yes sir. Davies sighed, as Burns left.

–

On top of a hill in the middle of a fairly empty graveyard was a large black stone. From where Burns stood, he couldn’t read what it said. He frowned, and started toward it, passing no graves on his way.

He stopped in front of the stone, and admired the way the sun reflected off of it.

I sold the atom mill. Burns told it. I fired everyone.

He paused, having a mild paranoid moment, and looked behind him. No one was there. Good. He turned back.

I’m sure you’d be disappointed in me for not keeping the mill running while I’m off in Europe, but what you think doesn’t really matter, does it? He paused, as if the memorial would answer him. He shrugged, and continued. No, it doesn’t. Because you’re dead. If I’m going to risk my life, I want all of my money safely multiplying, so when I get I can cash in and be richer than I am now.

Again, Burns paused. He opened his mouth again, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. He closed his mouth and sighed.

Pater, I’m sorry. I’m sure you would have been happier if your memorial was in an older and more prestigious graveyard. I did the best I could with what I had at the time. Thanks to those bumbling lawyers mater had handle your will, I couldn’t get my money until nearly six months after they said you were dead.

That should also explain the shoddy quality of your memorial. It’s not nearly as large as I had hoped, and you can’t read it from the street. I know that the old you wouldn’t approve.

Burns frowned at the black stone memorial for a moment. The new version of his father, the way he had been before he disappeared and was assumed dead, was another story.

For a moment, Burns thought sickeningly of the last time he saw his father. An open suitcase on the bed, half packed, and his father looking down at some photograph in a frame as he sobbed. That man was not his father. He was less than a shell of his former glory. The memory made Burns shudder involuntarily before he looked back up at the memorial.

What a waste.

With a small, annoyed sigh, Burns turned and left.