“It’s bad, Neil. This is the worst trouble I’ve ever been in. If I can’t come up with the money, it’ll ruin me.”
Neil sat behind his desk, puffing on his pipe, as Milton rattled off the details of his situation. His face remained neutral as he listened.
Milton pleaded, “All I need is small loan of $5,000 to keep the bank from taking everything. Surely, you can scrounge up that much for an old friend.”
Neil’s mouth quirked as he gave his pipe one last puff before removing it from between his lips. The ring of smoke rose slowly in the air. “Think back, Milton. Years ago I was in the same situation as you are now. I know how it feels to realize that ground you build your life on has turned into quicksand and its about swallow up everything.”
He propped his elbows on the mirror-like surface on the desk and leaned forward. “I will give you the same thing you gave me when I came begging for help back then. My thoughts and prayers. And it’s a good thing that those aren’t worth a pitcher of hot piss because my thoughts are full of evil glee and my prayers are that you end up penniless in a ditch.”