"Thanks, Helen."
The tray had a china cup, filled with strong, black coffee, a croissant, and The Wall Street Journal. Mad Dog propped his feet up on the desk and snapped open the paper, sipping the steaming coffee as the warden's secretary closed the door behind her.
Moments later, the door opens, and the warden, arriving a few minutes late, drops his attache case.
"You're late," Mad Dog says.
"You're in my office," says the warden.
"Yeah, about that. I'll need the desk for at least three hours a day. I am handling some investments for the guards, and I need to be able to take care of business."
"Listen..."
"Warden, are you forgetting who runs this place? Oh, and I think Nushawn slipped in the shower. Damned mess, if you ask me."
"Yes sir, Mr. Madoff."
"Call me 'Mad Dog,' warden."
Mad Dog collects his things and leaves the office. Over his shoulder, he says, "I have a conjugal visit this afternoon. Can you see that a bottle of Pol Roger is on ice for me? My wife loves champagne."
Next, Mad Dog gets busy....
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment