PART I "Tonight is going to be fabulous, " Jacob Winchester thought to himself, "I’ll wait until after hors d'oeuvres to have everyone killed." Tonight’s entre would be steak tartar mixed with ripe endive and topped with a lemon pesto sauce, the wine would be a lightly chilled malbec. Jacob felt a cool rush as he walked out of the foyer and onto the veranda where the party was starting. As he took in the panoramic of his humble abode, he felt the sudden need to sit down, as it was overwhelming for most people. A 36,000 square foot modern/colonial mix, the house was developed sequentially by six different architects before it acquired the right level eccentricity that was befitting to Jacob’s needs. The porch overlooked the glorious fountain, which had an island in it, which housed another fountain. The food would not disappoint; the chief was a paygrade above Prussian royalty, and the Prussian royalty at the party were quite aware of this fact. He had stocked the ball with life’s biggest disappointments: offspring, family, and friends. It is common knowledge that the rich often see opportunity quickly, and with all its most beautiful subtleties. Well, Jacob Winchester was no exception. There were skeletons in the closet that needed to be dealt with. They had gone too far this time, and no amount of pleading or free stock options would make up for this situation. Jacob had sat at the head of the table by chance, though it would have stretched out for him if he hadn’t. His son was talking useless dribble. “What you really need to be investing in is ethanol.” Accident Winchester asserted, “when we run out of oil in 1980, all of our cars will be running on it.” Jacob laughed to himself on pondering his son’s name. It served as a helpful reminder of how he came into the world. “And take all of your money out of DEC, it just doesn’t care about its people. Organizations that don’t care about people are doomed to fail. Above all nations is humanity. Isn’t that right dad?” Jacob sat silently across the table with a smile on his face. Perhaps he would get to bash his son’s brains out with one of his Callaway Drivers before the poison took hold. The hors d'oeuvres were just about ready to come out when screams came from inside the estate. “Well,” Jacob said, “you get what you pay for.” The butler was dead. He had apparently sampled some food. The district judge was in the corner alternating between vomiting, laughing uncontrollably, and sampling his own personal stash of pharmaceuticals. He was an upright official, with a reputation for being righteous in the war against drugs. It was decided that calling the paramedics for the butler could wait until a certain someone managed to pull himself together. Jacob should have been fairly unhappy at this point, but the ripples on the water in the fountain sparked his memory and he was transported back to the events of the previous night that cheered him up. PART II Jacob was rowing a boat in the gentle calm of the night. It was 3 in the morning, just the right temperature, a full moon and a shooting star overhead, all perfectly reflected in the water. He was in the grand fountain humming a catchy tune. Unfortunately there was another person on this boat who was not as appreciative of music as Jacob would have liked. “You know Ed, sometimes you’ve really got to enjoy the little things in life.” Jacob said. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” the passenger protested. “Yes well I’d imagine that those restraints aren’t quite what you had hoped for, and I’m sure that the concrete blocks aren’t too comfy either.” Jacob laughed, he was in an exceptionally good mood as of late, and this was only the beginning. PART III That was when the entre finally came out. Apparently the butler had had an allergic reaction to the strawberries hidden in the hors d'oeuvres, so the chef gave the go ahead for the next course. As people began to sample from the other secret ingredient of the night, Jacob decided to break from his regularly reserved manor. “I had quite the interesting experience last night,” Jacob began, “and I thought ‘what a better way to end this party than with a good story.’” “Aww dad.” Accident fawned, “What happened?” Jacob resumed, “Around midnight last night I got up and answered the door, and you wouldn’t believe who was there.” “Who was there?” said the ever so pleasant Margaret Thatcher. “Ed, The district attorney.” Everyone began drinking water quite awkwardly, so Jacob continued. “He asked if he could come in and we got to talking: “Ed? What brings you here at this ungodly hour,” I asked. “Ah, nothing important. Some weather we’re having.” He said “Yes, it is unusually nice, ”I responded. “Now Jacob, some of your family and friends contacted me earlier, saying that there were a few skeletons in your closet that needed to be dealt with, and that it might require some legal attention.” “Is that so?” “I know - I was just as surprised as you, and I know that this is stupid and inappropriate especially at this time of day, I’m sure that someone is pulling my chain. But unfortunately we both know that if I don’t investigate certain matters fully, than I’m just leading myself up to a shit-storm of personal liability.” “that’s completely understandable,” I said supportively. “Do you mind if I have a look around?” Ed asked.” “I said no, that’s quite alright with me, and if there is anything that I could do to make your job easier don’t hesitate to ask.” The partygoers were surprisingly docile, and Jacob continued his story in intricate detail: How they walked all around the house talking about the stock market, the old days on varsity football, and Jacob’s favorite magazine ‘Cigar Aficionado.’ But then the pair got closer and closer to the back side of the attic cubby hole, and the closet around the corner. “Ed opened the door and was quite surprised to find actual skeletons in the closet. He had the funniest look on his face when I knocked him unconscious with the back end of a hunting rifle.” This part, the audience didn’t quite expect. Jacob faced the adorable little girl to his right hand side and put it in terms that she could understand, “There were 4 big ones and 6 little ones in the closet.” He then redirected to the rest of the group, “It was a Jewish-Nazi affair in the war, and it made me a hell of a lot of money. I’m surprised that none of you could have kept more discretion over something as little as my ultra realist Halloween ornaments from last year. I’m sorry to admit that you’ll be leaving me with quite the mess to clean up tonight.” Margaret Thatcher coughed. Apparently red was in this season; it was spattered everywhere.