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Fauntleroy and Flossy – The Billionaires Club

Behind closed doors, Fauntleroy is in a meeting with Betsy DeFlossed. The position of Secretary of Education needs to be filled. She was offered up as the only selection from the RNC.

“What makes you uniquely qualified for this job? Everyone I spoke to speaks so highly of you,” Fauntleroy puts down his Crème de menthe.

She leaned forward, “What I know is – Why educate them. I mean, look at them. We spend money and send them all to school and just look what comes out on graduation day. They don’t read; they can’t write,” she paused and sat back. “Besides, we no longer need an educated population. So many of the jobs have gone away, we don’t even know what to do with the people here now. I say, educate our children, yours and mine, they are the future leaders of the world. Hand pick the future managers for what work is left. Hand the labor to the Chinese and the population of India. Let’s dismantle the public school system.” She smiled, knowing that is what Fauntleroy and his handlers want to hear.

“What is that going to do to the University system?” He took another sip, “I went to the best business school in the world. The best, none better, I mean a really good one.”

“It will drive down the prices, who do those people think they are anyway. Universities are still teaching Latin for heaven sakes. In our day there were no designated party schools churning out $120,000 degrees. So what if half the universities close down! You know what scams universities are, now don’t you?”

At that moment, Flossy knocked and walked into the room. “Sorry Darling, but there is a phone call, he sounded upset.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know Darling. He said something about the four horsemen of the Annapolis.” She smiled, turned and walked out.

Fauntleroy watched her go. “She is a really, really good person, one of the best persons. I wonder if she wants to be Secretary of Education?” He stood and extended his arm – “I’ll let you know.”

“For the masses, boys and girls five through twelve, they should receive military training. We are going to need lots of soldiers in this new world we are going to build together. Soldiers are cheaper than scholars.” DeFlossed stood, took the offered hand, shook and walked out the door. “Teachers will be begging us on their knees for jobs when I am through with them.”

Fauntleroy rubbed his fingers around his hand to push away the icy feeling she left. Flossy entered as the DeFlossed left. “Darling, this is such an easy thing, just change the law that says kids have to go to school. The schools will be empty in no time at all. Besides, they would rather watch Duck Dukedom and Naked and Scared on TV and call it home schooling.” She turned and left.

Fauntleroy grabbed his gold encased phone and Tweeted, ‘No schools, no schools, you fools, you fools. #TheRealFauntleroy” Then he put his phone away.

Flossy popped her head back in the door. “Darling, pick up the phone, the one on the desk. Please.” She left.


Fauntleroy was disturbed, he wanted to Tweet again. He walked to the phone and grabbed it. “Fauntleroy.” He listened.

“Yes, I got it Bangladesh is quite a mess, and Marrakech is in distress and Illinois with civil unrest, but here and now, I must confess, none of this will stand in the way of my success. Oppress, oppress!!”

He set the phone back in its cradle, grabbed his gold phone and Tweeted, ‘Oppress, oppress. Who did you vote for Baby? #TheRealFauntleroy’

That night in The Towers, Fauntleroy sat at the bedside of Red B., “Son, is this a great country or what? When I started all I had was fourteen million dollars, but I scrapped and clawed my way through life. I made good deals and more good deals. You are never going to have to come up the hard way like I did. When done here, we will have another billion dollars under our control. You will not have to suffer like I suffered.” He leaned over and kissed his son goodnight.


He walked out and over to the Royal Suite where Flossy waited for him. “Oh, Darling, you look so tired. Come here, let me rub your shoulders.”

“Remind me to get Model T to see if we have hotels in Bangladesh and Marrakech and Illinois for that matter. I never worked so hard. Red B did not seem happy this evening. Anything wrong there?”

“No Darling, what could be wrong? Let’s get some sleep.” She reached over and turned the light out in the 2,000 sq ft sleeping quarters.


This is a work of fiction. The resemblance to characters living or dead is coincidental, inconsequential, incremental, and purely consequential. No billionaires were hurt during the writing of this fictitious story, written by a fictitious author, about the fictitious situation. If Fauntleroy and Flossy have offended you in any way or caused the corners of your mouth to move either North or South, well, then good.

This work is not intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians. Continue your selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors regime, as prescribed by your Obamacare Physicians. Stock up on your Prozac, Zoloft, Celexa, Paxil, Lexapro. Acapulco Gold, Panama Gold, Black Russian, Texas Tea, Indo, Maui Wowie, Thai stick, Mexican, and Colombo. If the condition persists consult your dealer.

The definition of defamation is a communication that harms the reputation of another, since any reputation living or dead, is fictional the laws of defamation does not apply. A reputation can only go so low. I am not responsible for reputations other than my own.

End disclaimer

Find your 8 Tracks and Cassettes, dig through the garage for the players. Reacquaint yourself with the Grateful Dead.

The song This Land Is Your Land rang out from the blue phone. Fauntleroy rolled to his side, closed his eyes and fell into an undisturbed sleep.

Woody Guthrie-This Land Is Your Land

© 2016 mckbirdbks

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