Charles Montgomery Burns sat in his office, eyes closed, resting comfortably in a large chair. He figured his rest was well-deserved. After all, he had just come home from World War 2 less than a month ago, and being a war hero was tiring.
His calm was shattered when the phone rang. Burns merely glared at it as he waited for his assistant to pick it up.
The man, a short and round man by the name of Jacobs (or was it Jackson?) came rushing in and picked up the phone.
Hello? Burns’ assistant said, and went quiet as someone on the other line started talking. Mr. Burns closed his eyes again, but didn’t keep them closed for long.
Sir? It’s the hospital. Your mother has been hit by a car.
Mr. Burns opened only one eye, however, and used it to look at Jacobs curiously. Did the man really need to tell him this? Oh well, it was best to deal with it the only way he knew how.