Confessions of an Industrialist
Chapter One
Judge Snyder cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Burns, you are charged with two counts of murder and two of false imprisonment and attempted murder. How do you plead?"
"I plead to God every day that he will bring back the only person who loved me – Waylon Smithers, the man who those so-called victims viciously murdered while he was in the prime of his life. I'll tell you how this sordid affair began..."
Mr. Burns walked with Smithers to his limousine in the power plant parking lot. "Why don't you stay outside while I warm the car up?" said Smithers. "You can't be too careful since we got that bomb threat."
"You mean that little Lisa Simpson's premonition? You are too gullible! That girl is an environmentalist meddler. They want us to fear for our lives so that we will bend to their will."
Smithers smiled, said, "You're probably right, sir, but all the same, I insist," and closed the driver's side door behind himself and put the key in the ignition.
A thunderous sound pushed Mr. Burns to the ground. He looked back to see his limousine had erupted in flame. He stood up and his eyes widened in terror at Smithers' limp form, car parts embedded in him and his hair on fire. "Smithers, you're hurt! You need some help!" He walked toward the billowing smoke and gripped Smithers' hand, tugging at him to bring him out of the car. Inch by inch, he dragged his loving lackey onto the asphalt and away from the fire. He took off his own shoe and beat it against Smithers' head until the fire went out of his hair, then he held Smithers in his arms, looking scared into his eyes.
Blood sputtering from his mouth, he said, "I won't make it, Monty."
"No! You will live," said Mr. Burns.
"Before I go...you need to know...I'm in love with you."
"What are you saying? Don't talk that way. You need a physician!"
"I'm madly in love with you, like a man wants a woman, I want you, all of you. I dream about you day and night, I pray you'll hold me tight and say..."
"Waylon..."
"'I love you, too.'"
"Don't go..." Drops of rain splattered on his glasses and mixed with his blood on the pavement. "What can I do for you?"
"Just hold me until it's over." Mr. Burns squeezed with all his might as he shed a single tear. "Mmm. Tell me, Mr. Burns – will you miss me?"
"No, because you're staying right here," he said, rubbing the palm of his hand against Smithers'.
"You're here. That's all I need to know."
Mr. Burns held Smithers' hand and drew it to his chest. "You should live a hundred years. You can't leave me now."
"Just hold me, Monty. Let me die in your arms."
Mr. Burns ran his hand through Smithers' hair and cradled Smithers' jaw with the palm of his hand. "Of course, my dear Smithers. I'm here. Monty is here for you. I will hold you until the end." Smithers' face paled and his lips quivered, his eyes drifting aimlessly apart. Panicked, Mr. Burns gripped Smithers by his bow tie and said, "Before you go, you need to know...I love you, too." He kissed Smithers tenderly on the lips. Smithers emitted a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan as he returned the kiss and weakly squeezed his hand around Burns', their lips just meeting again before he went limp as he died.
"Oh, dear..." He tentatively checked Smithers' pulse. Upon failing to find one, he shuddered, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and spat a gob of saliva onto the asphalt. Sirens grew louder and higher pitched in the distance. "Smithers..." He looked around to ensure they were alone, then wept quietly into Smithers' chest. "Smithers..."
"Monty, have I told you lately how much I love you?" Smithers traced his finger over Mr. Burns' lips.
"Not lately enough," he said, kissing Smithers passionately, their tongues mingling. "I want you, Smithers. Now."
He eagerly dropped his trousers, and they engaged in sexual congress, Mr. Burns awash in the divinest satisfaction. Smithers stroked his cheek and gleefully said, "I never thought I would live to see this day."
Mr. Burns woke up screaming and sweating profusely as his heart raced. "You didn't..."
He fell asleep again soon, wishing to retreat from the stark reality of his confidant's passing. No, passing was far too gentle a word for it. Smithers hadn't passed on. More like he had been violently ripped away from him.
His limousine exploded, and the sounds of scraps of metal tearing through flesh and bone echoed in his mind.
"Smithers! What have they done to you?"
"Monty, I'm dying..."
"No! NO! Stop dying this instant! I command you! Not again..."
He became soaked in Smithers' blood, the torrent persisting until the blood filled the parking lot and rose to his neck and he began to drown in it.
He awoke again. "Smithers! Smithers, come and hold me. I had a nightmare. I dreamt you died in my arms..."
"Let me soothe your jangled nerves." He crawled into bed with him and began to massage his shoulders. "Now, tell me all about it while I work these knots out of your exquisite trapezius muscles."
"There was a bomb in the car, and it discharged while you were in it. You confessed your love for me with your dying breaths."
"Ah, yes. I'd been meaning to tell you," he said, momentarily halting his massage. "I was afraid you would want me out of your life for good. I just couldn't take that chance. But God, did I want to."
"I don't want you out of my life! How could you think that for a moment?"
"Well...sometimes you treat me callously, and I doubt you care about me at all."
"Poppycock! I defy you to name one callous act."
"You cut me out of your will. You've had me sent to prison in your stead on multiple occasions. I can't tell you how many of my gifts you've tossed aside without so much as looking at them. I put a lot of thought and effort into those gifts, Monty. I did my level best to make you feel special, and you made me feel like a nothing. Where did I go wrong? I did nothing but love you..."
"Okay, so there were numerous callous acts on my behalf. But I have always wanted you at my side."
"Ahem."
"Well, besides the times I fired you. But it was never long before I rehired you. You didn't go wrong, Waylon – it's just my nature."
"No. Not your nature. Your heart wasn't always so hardened. Before life beat you down and built you up, you were a brilliant flame of love and generosity, and that flame never completely died. I've seen your beautiful, innocent soul spark far too often to think it's a fluke."
"More cloyingly than I would put it, but you're right. I felt that spark when I held you in my arms, when I thought you were dying and I felt like I was dying, too. You've always brought out the best in me, Waylon."
"May I – may I hug you, sir?" Mr. Burns nodded in assent, and Smithers enveloped him in an embrace.
Looking up and to the side to meet his eyes, he said, "I don't want you to leave me, Smithers."
Giving him a firm squeeze, he said, "Mr. Burns, you know I would never leave you."
He awoke, this time for real, and clutched Bobo in desperation. "Then why did you...?"