Walter Wallace - Chapter 6

Mark Tanenworth sat in a light brown suit in his light brown home office at the top of Citadel Inc Towers. He had thought himself quite clever after he had bargained his way into the top floor of The Citadel. He thought that the stature of being even higher in the tower than the Boss himself, he would be thought of as a big player by every Tom, Dick and Harry - And more importantly, women. Of course he made this deal without inspecting the apartment first. Sadly on his first visit he found that the elevator stops at the Boss’s penthouse suite which he has no right to enter - despite being second in charge – and therefore he must get off a floor below and then climb the fire escape escape on the outside of the building up to his home office. This is a terrifying experience and the altitude often gives Mark nose bleeds. Furthermore, the apartment has west and east facing windows to capture the sunrise and sunset. But the windows were so broad and the apartment so small that the excessive sunlight, which had so long been exposing the deep red oak finish of the walls, resulted in the hideous light brown colour scheme. As for the hideous light brown suit, that is simply proof that Mark makes bad decisions even if he is well informed beforehand.


Mark was relatively bored, tucked away up there. He had spent a good thirty minutes looking out over the city as if it were his kingdom, laughing to himself as he acted out the voice of a all seeing monarch. He then tried to arrange to have his windows washed because the view was constantly impaired by gathering filth, but no washer would dare try and clean those windows - especially if they hoped to abide by OH&S. He then considered washing the windows himself but it began to rain before he had a chance. “Probably saved me from an unnecessary nosebleed,” he said aloud to himself. But sadly it also saved him from a tasty lunch because walking down the fire escape in the rain was suicide.

Eventually he settled for watching TV and, like most the city, he ended up watching Channel 8. It was a painful experience. Not so much for his brain, but for his stomach. It was begging him for a pizza. He also had an irresistible urge to drink a Bud Light. They were getting close, or at least he hoped they were, to announcing who the happiest person in the world was. “Whoever it is, I could do with a pep talk from him,” Mark laughed to himself, “or her,” he added peeceely, remembering the feminist. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. A technique his therapist told him to use whenever he found himself talking to himself. “But everyone talks to themselves, don’t they?” He said aloud before breathing again. “Maybe I need a new ther-”

The phone interrupted his thought. He jumped up in fright and ran to his desk, lifting the receiver. “Talk to me.” He spoke the words with confidence. The phone kept ringing. “Idiot!” he said, though laughing at his mistake. He scooped up his mobile, “Talk to me.” It sounded false the second time - he had emphasised the ‘to’ instead of the ‘talk’ -and he rolled his eyes at himself before wondering if rolling his eyes to himself was just as bad as talking to himself. He took another deep breath just in case.

The voice at the other end of the line had been talking a while. “Sorry what were you saying?” The voice sighed deeply. Must have the same therapist Mark thought. Shit I need to pay attention. He listened to the story in full and realised it was time to act. “Well you know what the boss said, so you better go in and get him…Hmm, well then maybe you should go aaand mmmaaayyb-…Yeah I better check with the boss. I’ll call you back.”

Mark hung up the phone and dried the line of sweat off his brow. He turned back to the TV, and saw the name “WALTER WALLACE” flashing up on the screen above a photo. “Looks like a toad, that one. I thought he woulda been better looking.” he took a deep breath in but on the out breath he muttered “Fuck it,” and watched the distant Sun set through light rain and decided to brave a walk down to the restaurant. He was about to leave before remembering he had to make a call.