(The Setting: Mark Attanasio’s Luxury Box/Office/Vault Room)
-(pushes intercom button) Sharon! Send in Melvin.
– (edges through door) – Hey!! (pauses) Mark!! How you doin’? Buddy?
-Not well, you Melvin. (slaps down a copy of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel) Have you seen this? Do you think this makes me happy?
– I didn’t know you were that much of a Seinfeld fan sir, but don’t worry. They show re-runs all the time on, like, 15 different cable stations….
– (sighs, rubs forehead) You. Fucking. Melvin. I am not upset about that Seinfeld thing. I am upset about this. (removes spreadsheet from a desk drawer)
– Umm, I know you hate it when I ask questions, but should there really be that many red numbers…
– SHUT UP MELVIN! (straightens suit, adjusts his tie, and takes a deep breath) No. There should not be that many red numbers. Like this one. What in God’s name did you spend $10 million dollars on last month?
– Uh….Eric Gagne?
– And this charge on my Black Card for almost $13 and a half million?
– Jeez…(puts on his reading glasses)…looks like…Jason Kendall?
– Melvin, I was curious when I saw that even ten million missing from my checking account, and my interest was piqued when my AmEx bill was about 13 mil and change more then it should have been, but the straw that broke the camel’s back is this $7 million you spent last week. When I told you you had thirty million to spend I didn’t mean spend it all on NEW PLAYERS!!! Christ, you’re worse than my dead beat brother. I gave him $30 mil, and you know what he did with it? Huh? HE MADE THE F#$%@*& GOOD GERMAN!!!
– (paces furiously, running his hands through his hair and cursing under his breath)
– Um, now might not be a good time, but JJ and Dave Bush are seeking arbitration to….well, you know….get more money.
– (waving arms and gesticulating wildly) GOD DAMN IT DOUG, YOU FUCKING MELVIN! WHAT THE HELL?? DO YOU THINK I’M MADE OF MONEY???
– Um. Yes?
– (stops suddenly, smooths his suit, tightens his tie and smiles) Actually I am. (Pause) It feels pretty good to be made of money Doug. Sorry about all the shouting. (presses intercom button) Sharon! tell my wife to pack, we’re going to Paris in (checks watch) 3 and half hours. (turning to the Melvin) Just try not to spend any more of my money while I’m gone. (leaves Doug standing alone in the Luxury Suite/Office/Vault Room)
– (Looks over his shoulder at the still swinging door, then at the open vault overflowing with untraceable barabonds, then back over his shoulder at the open door) Fuck it. (fills his briefcase with money, then walks quickly out.)