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Gordon Drake said, “You can’t fix stupid,” as he watched the bids pour in.
The numbers on screen flashed too fast for Hayley Fairchild to follow. Drake glanced in her direction. Attuned to his every whim, Hayley fetched her boss a Mountain Dew Live Wire—by her count, his eighth of the day.
“This Wellington Walnut 5-Piece Bedroom Set,” the auctioneer said, “is in showroom condition.”
“Except for the radiation,” Drake said. “Try a little baking soda. Should be fine.”
He unscrewed the bottle cap and tossed it. Hayley picked it up. Drake chugged his drink.
“Eleven hundred,” the auctioneer said. “Can I get eleven hundred?”
Drake said, “This live-streaming is a beautiful thing.”
Hayley wasn’t certain if the boss was praising her, but she chose to take it that way. Live-streaming was her suggestion. The boss didn’t acknowledge contributions. Anything that worked was his idea.
Since Gordon Drake was old enough to be Hayley’s father, she doubted he knew what live-streaming was. But that was okay. That’s why he had loyal people like Hayley.
“Sold for eleven-fifty!”
Much as she valued the recognition, Hayley remained uneasy about the auction’s premise. Experts considered the nuclear reactor meltdown at the Eagle’s Nest Power Plant to be a disaster as bad or worse than Chernobyl. Residents within a fifty-mile radius were evacuated, escaping with their lives and little more. The contaminated zone would be uninhabitable for twenty years. Gordon Drake swooped in and looted everything in sight, pillaging private and public properties alike.
“And now,” the auctioneer said, “here’s a truly unique item—a pair of genuine giraffes!”
The animals appeared on screen. Hayley said, “They’re beautiful!”
Drake said, “I had my contractors sweep the zoo for anything that would sell. The ugly animals are on their own. Tell him not to forget the announcement.”
Receiving the message, the auctioneer said, “Remember, every dollar you spend contributes to the Gordon Drake Disaster Recovery Fund, helping victims of the meltdown. So be generous with those bids. Two thousand, can I get two thousand?”
Hayley knew Mr. Drake was controversial. Critics called him a nihilist; he called himself a “serial entrepreneur.” To Hayley, Gordon Drake was what the free enterprise system was all about. He saw opportunities where others saw challenges. He was Hayley’s MBA program come to life. And with this auction, she reassured herself, the boss was doing good while doing well.
“Make sure we keep the rights in case that giraffe gives birth,” Drake said. “If the baby has two heads, we’ll clean up.”
“All purchasers sign our standard agreement.”
“They better.”
The auctioneer said, “Thirty-five hundred. Come on, pet lovers, do I hear thirty-five hundred for these noble creatures?”
Drake finished his Mountain Dew. Hayley spirited the bottle away. He said, “Meltdowns are a one-off. Global warming—we can monetize that big time.”
Hayley said, “The sky’s the limit, Mr. Drake.”
David Sherman lives in New York. He took up writing during the pandemic lockdown. It was either that or renovate his apartment. David’s writing is getting better. His apartment is getting worse.
