Simpsons Porn Story: The Murder of M F Burns Chapter 6

Bright and early, Montgomery Frederick Burns arrived at his son’s
mansion. He knocked on the door and waited.

A few minutes passed, and a servant opened the door.

Monty will be down in a moment. He said.

It’s Mr. Burns! An angry voice yelled from somewhere
upstairs.

The servant rolled his eyes. Mr. Burns will be with you in
a moment. He corrected himself.

With his tie and jacket draped over his elbow, and his shirt only
half-buttoned, Monty Burns appeared at the top of the stairs. One
more slip up, Reginald, and you’re fired. One. You’re lucky. You get
a strike. Think carefully. Was Mona that lucky? Burns raised an
eyebrow and glared down at his servant.

Reginald shook his head, and looked at the floor. No, she wasn’t.

Be glad you still have a job and all your fingers, then. Of
course, I can’t let this slide unnoticed. You’ll get a 40 pay cut
until you can prove you deserve full pay. Now off with you. Burns
motioned vaguely with one hand, and Reginald muttered ‘Yes, sir’ and
scurried off.

Burns stood at the top of the stairs and finished dressing himself.

Fred just stood there uncomfortably for a while. He wanted to say
something about the treatment of his servants, but was afraid to.
Finally, as Burns was adjusting his tie, he had to ask one thing.

What happened to Mona’s fingers?

Burns looked down at his father. Kitchen mishap. He replied,
smoothing down his tie with the back of his hand.

What kind of mishap?

Burns shrugged. She was cutting something and chopped off one of
her fingers. The product was worth more than her grubby finger, I can
tell you that much. That’s why I fired her.

What could be more important than-

It really isn’t any of your business. Burns growled.

Fred decided not to press the matter. He abruptly changed the
subject. So… should we sit and talk? He asked.

Burns sighed. I suppose so. He said, glancing behind him.
Although he didn’t want to admit it to his father, he wasn’t
completely sure where the sitting room was. He only used the dining
room, the bathroom, his bedroom, and occasionally the library and a
small study.

Ahh! The library. It had a nice view. Perfect excuse to bring his
father there instead of the sitting room.

This way. Burns said, motioning for his father to follow him.
He led him through a few halls, and walked under a large arched
doorway into a large room. On the right and left were tall bookcases
that covered the whole wall. Neither of them was filled with books;
there were gaps here and there where books were missing and the
shelves on the bottom were empty.

Across from the door was a large window. Burns loved oversized
windows, but only if they had decent views. This view was one of
Springfield nearly the whole city fit perfectly in the window.

Burns took a seat on one of the three couches in the library. They
were all the exact same shade of brown, (and in fact, the desk,
coffee table, side tables, and desk chair were all this color as
well) but were made of different materials. Burns had chosen the
leather couch, and his father moved a few books so that he could take
a seat on the suede couch.

Just set them over there. Burns said, pointing at the other
couch. It was made of a rougher cloth, and draped with a blanket.

There certainly are a lot of books lying around. Fred said as
he set the books down on the couch. Burns shrugged. He had forgotten
what a terrible state his library was in; he didn’t like it when his
servants cleaned the place. They always put his books away in the
wrong places. Of course, it was a little better than Burns himself,
who just never put away his books.

Fred looked around, assuming that Monty would, eventually, say
something on the subject. They just sat there in uncomfortable
silence until he did.

I don’t clean the library often. Burns finally said, feeling
defeated.

You clean it yourself? His father asked curiously.

You know how hired help can be. Burns replied, Books never
end up in their rightful places. They fall into disrepair much faster
when I have someone come in and touch them with their grubby hands.

I don’t think leaving them out is much better.

Although they may be stacked high, I do not believe that this
means that they are any worse off than they would be if they were on
the shelves.

Burns’ father picked up another book from beside him and looked at it
carefully before setting it on a side table on top of a couple other
books. I suppose.

Really, you don’t seem to understand some of the things that my
servants have done. One girl ruined a rare copy of ‘The Complete
Works of Nathanael Hawthorne’. I may not have been fond of the man,
but the book was in pristine condition when I came into possession of
it.

Do you still have it?

Burns stood and went to the shelves. He pulled out a thick, tome and
dropped it on his father’s lap.

As Burns stared down at him, he looked at it. It was leather-bound,
and appeared to be in perfect condition, except, perhaps, for the
yellowed pages.

What’s wrong with it? He finally dared asking.

What’s-? Burns sputtered, What’s wrong with it? Look here!
He pointed at a tiny mark on the cover that Frederick had overlooked.
A gash right in the center of the cover! Impossible to fix, by the
way.

After holding the book up to the light, Fred still wasn’t sure if he
honestly saw the ‘gash’ his son referred to.

What did you do to the girl?

Burns snatched his book back from his father. I fired her, of
course. I don’t tolerate incompetence. He said as he marched back
to the shelf and put the book in its place.

You just fired her?

For a second, Burns paused. It had been a few years back, so he
didn’t remember the incident properly. He turned back to his father.
I believe I threw the book at her, but in my defense, I was
younger and more spontaneous back then.

Fred watched his son sit back down. He was waiting for the other shoe
to drop.

I would have released the hounds on her if I had owned them at
this time. Well, perhaps just one hound if I was feeling particularly
generous. He explained as he crossed his legs.

The pair just stared at each other. Burns had a cocky smile; he knew
that his father wanted to get to know him, and had been overlooking
such things since they first met. Monty Burns loved seeing the look
in his father’s eyes as he held his frustration and disgust in.

In a moment, Frederick was standing. Burns thought he was going to
storm out, but he did something worse.

M. F. Burns slapped his son across the face. Monty Burns just sat
there, looking stunned, one hand on the cheek that had been slapped
as his father went off.

That girl made an honest mistake, just dropped a book and
scratched it a little, and you not only fired her for it, but you
threw the book at her! You would honestly release your dogs on
a poor girl just for doing a tiny bit of damage to a book! When I was
your age, I was a terrible human being, but I was never this
bad. THIS? This is disgusting, Charles. How do you live
with yourself?

Monty Burns hadn’t heard a word the man was saying. His stunned
silence quickly changed into a livid silence, as he glared up at his
father.

The man had to die.

Standing, Burns shoved his father aside roughly and left the library.
There was planning to do.

Frederick, losing his balance at the sudden push, fell to the floor
and stared at his son as he left. Although he considered following
the boy, he decided not to push his luck.

Is everything okay?

The man called Reginald, the man who had answered the door, appeared
in the doorway of the library. Fred struggled for a moment before he
grabbed onto the side of a table and stood up.

I’m fine. He answered. Tell Charles that I’ve left.

Of course, sir. Reginald replied.

–

Author’s note: I’d like to thank Batsbutler for the suggestion of
having Mr. Burns’ father slap him. I believe I have put it to good
use. (It took a long time to find the right place to put it, though.
I think I picked the right place.)