Later that same day Hoffers Greenfield trudged his frustrated soul to a nightclub nearby town. The walls of his dignity and pride had fallen. Before he got down to the night club he drove past his restaurant and he saw the seal and restriction placed at the entrance.
He tilted his face and wailed like a kid. There was nothing more to live for and about now, he would have to drink himself to stupor. He had never been an alcoholic and he wouldn’t mind leading such life now.
Nevertheless he couldn’t fight back; it was baseless doing such. Shortly after our drama at the airport he got hold of the documents of transaction for the purchase of his restaurant. He read the terms and conditions and he boiled in wrath and hated himself for being such a dope. He wondered what blindfolded him when he signed to those terms without reading through carefully.
He couldn’t believe he blindly agreed to the money on the credit card being accessible in fifty years.
Absurd.
“Fifty years?” he mumbled within himself , “I wonder where I would be by then.” He tossed his head in total ruin as his cheeks reddened in hurt, “Brian Patrick, uh-oh this is the height of it…” his wailing tone snapped as he began to count on his fingers, “I am fifty years already in other words I will be accessing that money at the age of hundred…” his gnashing of teeth interrupted him as he molded a teary face. “You have ruined me, Brian.”
He stroked his hair and looked forward to whiling away his miserable time at the club.
Although he was broke to buy wine, yet he expected some good fellow to give him a shout tonight. Drinking himself to stupor could help to subsidize the pain of being reduced to nothing.
“Brian Patrick so you have the guts to advise me to be your staff…” he stared thoughtfully in the space.
A thick tall heavily-bearded man pranced to his side and interrupted his thought with the heady smell of his perfume. Stealing a glance at the stranger, he observed as the man ordered innumerable bottles of rum and gave him two.
“Oh, thank so much,” he appreciated, swallowed down a lump of appetite and earned his first sip for the night. Hi I am Hoffers…”
He had barely introduced himself when the man cut in.“…I know you, Hoffers Greenfield, the Chairman of Hoffers Food, huh,” the man’s face held a dilated smile which snapped his horrible dentition at him.
“Do you actually know me? Wow, it is my pleasure,” Hoffers winked nervously and argued if he would be comfortable around a man who knew him and of course knew all about his downfall now. He sipped harder to see if his thought could be drown away.
“Um what happened to Hoffers Food? I was dumbfounded when I saw the government’s seal on it. What could have happened to your empire? I love your tasty Broccoli Pasta. In fact on Fridays as this, I would often branch to Hoffers Food to have a plate of my favorite Broccoli before driving down to the club.” The burly man earned a sip of his wine and dragged a frown at the pitiable face of Hoffers.
Hoffers was dumbstruck as he felt a hot lump clog his throat. He wondered what reply he would give that would justify him and portray me as the devil.
The burly man continued, “I never knew I would see you tonight .”
When Hoffers combed his stare around the man he saw a ruffled newspaper by his side , and he swallowed down a dry lump nervously.
“I presume you have seen this.” He placed the newspaper on his meaty thighs and opened a page to the viewing of Hoffers.
“What!” Hoffers exclaimed after he thought he could avoid this eerie man per se, “What paper is this?” his gaze had settled on the headline as he read repeatedly.
But the man never gave a reply rather he busied himself with his wine and poured afresh after draining a few bottle.
Hoffers’ gaze scanned through the headline: Hoofers food On A Shut Down Over Poisonous Food. “
“Oh my God ! Brian Patrick did this! I knew it would come to this,” he mumbled in his head and felt his veins pop in sorrow, “How did I get to know this evil, rich kid that would stop at nothing until he brings me down.” He mumbled within himself.
“I want to believe the newspaper is false, Mr. Hoffers, otherwise I stand a chance of losing my life or an organ due to excessive consumption of your poisonus pasta.”
Hoffers sat up and shook his head in disapproval, hell no. These are fabricated stories just aimed at spoiling my image. I believe my enemies are at work. You know as a CEO you must have enemies. Believe me when I tell you that it is a fabricated story…”
The burly man snapped, “Then tell me what the hell happened to your restaurant, huh. You have to convince me as well as the populace that your mushroom restaurant is free from poison…”
Hoffers snarled at his beholder, “Hey! Hey! I wouldn’t take that shit form you, okay! Now for your information the reason my restaurant has a seal is because I sold it to the government after taking a decision to change a line of bossiness,” he lied and grinned to fight back guilt.
The burly man made a thunderous face at him, “How am I sure you are telling the truth?”
The entire place itched his body right now. Promptly Hoffers stood up and gulped his wine, “Any ways thank you for the drink. I got to go.”
He trudged away, shouldering through the crowd.
Now outside, he tucked away and wept bitterly from the dregs of his soul.
“Brian Patrick, please let go and forgive me. Never in my life will I maltreat the poor! Never! The embarrassment is just too much” he groaned through wailing…