The Man Who Has Everything

You know what he wants

© 2005 James Duncan Davidson used under a Creative Commons license

[A large entertaining-or-whatever space in a mansion owned by JEFF BEZOS. The room is windowless, with panel doors that seem to merge with the walls, each with discreet biometric devices on the right side. The floor is of black tile, with green-and-white accents; the walls are painted French vanilla, the moldings royal blue. The characterless space is relieved by a few black leather Poltrona Frau Archibald armchairs; a few black leather Saint Germain sofas, and a red leather one; a bearskin rug; and a man-sized Forsyth sheepskin ottoman. On one wall hangs a long black and red banner with the Amazon arrow-A where the swastika would normally go; on another, huge framed oil portraits in the manner of — possibly actually painted by — Zhang Dazhong, of BEZOS, his fiancée LAUREN SÁNCHEZ, and Francisco Franco; on another wall is the largest flatscreen TV in the world, turned off at present; on another, the Bayeux Tapestry (the one in Bayeux is, unknown to the world, a fake), and just over that a basketball backboard and net (regulation).

One of the panel doors slides open and through it saunters BEZOS, naked, with what appears to be blood smeared on his body, with that characteristic half-dazed, half-smug look on his face. The door stays open.]

BEZOS: I have everything — thanks to the fools who watch Prime and buy fleece pullovers and kitchen runners.

[BEZOS stops, brings the backs of his wrists to his eyes.]

And yet! I am not sated! [Louder] No, no, no — I am not sated — nothing can sate me, nothing, never, nothing –

[A woman who looks very much like LAUREN SÁNCHEZ dashes in behind him; she too is naked and smeared with blood.]

SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMAN: [Dramatically] No, Lord Bezos! No! I can satisfy you! I’ll do anything for you, I’ll let you kill me like you killed that baby, kill me with your beautiful cock! Please, please let me try —

[Another naked woman who also looks very much like LAUREN SÁNCHEZ, also smeared with blood, dashes in. She strikes a belligerent pose.]

SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMAN 2: [Dramatically] You get away from him, you filthy whore! Only I can satisfy Lord Bezos!

SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMAN 1: Hah! You slag! How could you please Lord Bezos! All my holes are at his disposal at all times, even when I sleep!

SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMAN 2: Pig! I would suffocate on his cock! [To BEZOS] Please, Lord Bezos, plug my worthless throat with your majestic cock!

SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMAN 1: Disgusting slut, prepare to die!

[The two SÁNCHEZESQUE WOMEN ferociously advance on one another but, rather than kick and punch, they raise their arms and swing their breasts at one another. BEZOS watches and touches himself a while, but suddenly turns and brings the backs of his wrists to his eyes again.]

BEZOS: It’s no use! No use!

[The WOMEN stop and stare at BEZOS. He drops his hands. He slightly crouches, balls his fists; his face goes slack, his head turns from side to side.]

I have everything! And everything I could not have I destroyed. I destroyed thousands of small businesses! I destroyed the Washington Post!

[He turns on the WOMEN – points to one:]

You! You were a college student when I found you! Right? A Sociology major. You had dreams and I destroyed them!

[He points to the other one.]

And you! You worked at Kohls. You thought I loved you!

[BEZOS points to both the WOMEN.]

You once looked like normal women, and I had you chopped and carved until you looked like sex dolls! When the real sex dolls are perfected, I’ll have no more use for any of you!

[Rearing up like a horse, BEZOS emits an ugly, villainous laugh.]

I destroyed you! I destroyed your dreams, like I destroyed so many others! So many! But it’s not enough!

[BEZOS swings around; the WOMEN look at one another in attitudes of “wtf?”; BEZOS cries to the heavens:]

I’m the richest man in the world! And still I am not sated!

[Suddenly he freezes; his eyes widen.]

Wait! Maybe more blood! Yes — more blood, the blood of the innocent, that’s what I need!

[BEZOS turns and cries out.]

BLOOD! I MUST HAVE BLOOD!

[NBA air raid siren sound. Flashing lights. A FUNCTIONARY, dressed like a butler and wearing dark glasses, enters, carrying on a large silver platter what appears to be a baby in swaddling clothes — though we may notice, when the fleshy part is visible, the “baby” has the waxy appearance of a doll. The WOMEN jump up and down and clap their hands. BEZOS grabs the baby-like-object, strips off the swaddling, and savagely bites into it; the WOMEN squeal as a blood-like substance runs down his chin. The FUNCTIONARY steps back against the wall. With a scream BEZOS throws the “baby” at the basketball hoop, missing widely; it hits the Tapestry and smears it with “blood” before falling to the floor. The WOMEN cheer and applaud. BEZOS raises his fists in front of his face and parades as the chorus of “Cotton-Eye Joe” plays. Then, suddenly, BEZOS thrashes and flails his arms. The music ceases.]

BEZOS: NO! STILL no good! I’m exhausted!

[BEZOS hobbles to and collapses face down on the giant ottoman. As he cannot see them, the WOMEN relax, even look bored.]

What is left for me to destroy?

[Pause. The FUNCTIONARY walks to BEZOS, leans into his ear:]

FUNCTIONARY: [In a surprisingly deep, lustrous voice] Democracy, Lord Bezos. You have not yet killed democracy.

[Pause. BEZOS raises his head. He starts to laugh. He thrashes back and forth, laughing ever more maniacally. He springs from the ottoman and roars:]

Alexa! Bezos here! Send money to Trump!

ALEXA: Sure! How much money —

BEZOS: A million! No, two! Three! And send a million to the RNC! Send a million to Putin! Who’s gonna know! Send a million to — Alexa, who’s evil? Really, really evil?

ALEXA: Jeff Bezos.

BEZOS: Besides me! Everyone knows I’m evil!

ALEXA: Michael Johnson. Matt Gaetz. Marjorie —

BEZOS: A million! A million apiece! Of course! This! This is what I really wanted to kill — and I have the money to do it! AH HA HA HAHA!

[BEZOS spins, then falls back on the ottoman. The WOMEN, after looking to one another for assurance, back away and out the door. The FUNCTIONARY signals to the wings; Technotronic’s “Pump Up The Jam” plays and disco party lights flood the room as BEZOS waves his hands in the air as if conducting the music. The FUNCTIONARY walks offstage but soon returns, carrying an American flag on a pole in one hand and a small blowtorch in the other.]