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Rotesque Tale

A Rotesque Tale of a Wall Street Kleptomaniac, part 2

While in the bathroom, Bradley Hamlargular was accosted by the bathroom attendant for a small tip, namely for providing talcum powder, paper towels and a dash of cologne. Bradley, who was well known by members of his local country club and business associates for being the most frugal man alive, told the bathroom attendant “fuck off and die in a hole filled with pig vomit.” Stunned, the bathroom attendant grabbed his paper cup filled with $1 tips— and ran out of the bathroom crying.

Composed and collected, Mr. Hamlargular returned to his quaint table, where Peter Rotesque was busy filling out some forms, all pertaining to their business.

“Let’s get this wrapped up Peter, I really need to go,” exclaimed Bradley.

“No problem Brad. I just need you to sign these… (burp!) Oh my Brad, I am sorry about that. It must be all of that club soda I was drinking (laughing nervously without composure). Anyway, like I was saying..”(interrupted by Bradley)

“Just give me the damn forms Peter. Where is my pen?”

“What pen?” said Peter

Bradley fired back “the fucking $20,000 pen that I left on this very table, when I left for the bathroom. That pen.”

Calmly, Peter replied: “I don’t know what you are talking about Brad. I’ve been here working on these papers” (Peter lifted up a 3 inch thick stack of papers and waived them in the air).

Enraged, Bradley left the table and demanded to speak to Andre, the maître d’ of The Four Seasons, who, at the moment, was busy talking on the telephone booking a party of 15 for one of his best customers. Annoyed by Bradley Hamlargular’s presence, Andre snapped his fingers at one of his underlings to assist Bradley with his pressing issue.

Back at the table, Peter paid for lunch (minus a tip), stuffed his briefcase with papers, then got up and walked towards Bradley.

“Hey Brad, come over here. The pen was probably stolen by one of those greasy waiters. Forget about the stupid pen. I will buy you a new pen. Look, I need to get back to the office. Take my pen and sign these papers please.”

Bradley, caught off guard by Peter’s brazen attempt to brush off the loss of his prized $20,000 Grayson Tighe Limited Edition rollerball pen, agreed and quickly signed the documents.

Peter said “thanks buddy. I’ll give you a ring later on” and quickly left The Four Seasons, shuffled into a yellow taxi, destined for his office.

Much to the bewilderment of the anxious cab driver, inside the taxi, Peter (with a big grin on his face) pulled out an oversized mirror from his briefcase, looked into it and said “A great many rotesqueries Peter. A great many rotesqueries.”

To be continued…

Related: Part 1

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A Rotesque Tale of a Wall Street Kleptomaniac

Peter Rotesque was a 40 something year old wall street professional, with big plans to expand his burgeoning career, catering to the super wealthy. He lived in an atypical upscale suburban community. He had 4 cars, 2 homes, 1 boat, 4 kids, 1 wife and 1 mistress. His work ethic could only be described as “obsessive psychotic,” where he was a partner at an up and coming NYC investment bank, overseeing and cracking a stiff whip on an underpaid and brazenly disloyal staff of 25. Everything was fairly straightforward with Peter, with exception to one major character flaw: aside from Peter’s obsessive work ethic and infectious charm, Peter was also a fiery kleptomaniac aka “great collector of other people’s things.”

It all started one day, while at a business meeting. His devout client, Bradley Hamlargular, of 20 years had met him for lunch at The Four Seasons restaurant in NYC. While discussing a multi-million dollar deal over $25 quail egg salads, Bradley politely excused himself from the table for exactly 4.5 minutes, so that he might relieve himself inside of the Four Seasons bathroom. In a mistake that can only be described as “unfortunate,” Mr. Hamlargular left his prized Grayson Tighe Limited Edition rollerball pen on the table— with Mr. Rotesque as its primary caretaker until he returned.

To be continued…

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