(he stands. walks nearly three feet. chuckles under his breath. looks 'round as if he owned the place, which, he did.)
his morbid fascination transcends both you and i.
he sees things we can't see; nor couldn't if we tried.
he looks 'round for his mistress, o lovely Dollar Sign,
while his fat and lonely wife watches as she whines.
houses, once our homes, fall prey to rot and mold
these his kind are drawn to as the carpet men of old.
his world is a melting pot of politics and gain
he loves his life and cannot conceive he is causing any pain.
he dreams of golf and stinking ships;
quietly disposes those who give him lip.
we pray he will turn an eye upon the ruin he has caused
we pray to God that his reign of terror shall soon come to a pause.
(he stands. saunters off on the high of a successful deal. thanks . . . Someone for winning. meets his mistress at the pub.)
scene,
for now.
