The Mclizard

Charles Harrington loved the way his new leather shoes clicked on the polished marble in his lobby. They reverberated with a certain finality in each step. The kind of finality, he thought, that quite nicely aligned with his unique and courageous ability to make decisions in the wake of imperfect information. But that is just the kind of keen insight needed to ascend to the lofty heights of Buyout King of New York City. As if on cue, his secretary, a mousy-looking girl of around 20, looked up sharply at him. She always seemed a little afraid to see him. Or was she simply in awe?

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington”

He waved a gesture that one might use to swat a buzzing fly. He made his way to his office, then settled into his leather wingchair and admired the New York skyline. His office radiated power.

It was shaping up to be a great month. Weeks after the close of his largest investment, Green Ocean Fruits, none of the initial concerns of his investors had come to pass. The seller wanted a quick transaction without a lot of hassle. And that was the way to get deals done these days. No fancy contracts, no outrageously-priced lawyers, just a man-to-man, word-is-my-bond deal. And the investment was paying out big. Green Ocean was the sole supplier of strawberries for McDougal’s Smoothies nationwide. Charles chuckled to himself — Green Ocean was quickly turning into Greenbacks.

The leather-paneled door swung open with a bang and the company lawyer, Winston, came charging in. His face was white as a bedsheet and he was stammering and waving about.

“Charles!” Winston gurgled. “Have you been watching the news? You need to see this!” Winston’s armpits were stained with sweat.

“Calm down, my good man.” Charles prided himself in maintaining his regal air of calm in all situations. He stepped around the lawyer, taking care to avoid flying flecks of perspiration, opened a large wall panel, and turned the flat-screen TV to Channel 5 News. He saw some mother and her daughter giving an interview. They appeared to be outside, perhaps near a restaurant or similar building. He peered closer and noticed the signature yellow “M” in the left-hand corner. The headline read, “Food safety scandal at McDougal’s.” Charles leaned in.

“It was awful!” The daughter blurted out. “My mom ordered me my usual strawberry milkshake…” Her voice trembled.

Charles looked at Winston, who grabbed Charles’ desk for support. “Why are you wasting my time with this?”

Winston just pointed to the TV with a limp wrist as the daughter continued, “I got about half of it down when my straw…got stuck.” The daughter looked like she was getting ill. “I thought it was a big strawberry chunk because I couldn’t drink from my straw anymore. And when I pulled it out to look, I saw a… a lizard head!”

The daughter burst into sobs as the reporter quickly yanked back the mic. “And in related news, McDougal’s will temporarily stop selling strawberry shakes and is suing its strawberry supplier, Green Ocean Fruits.”

Charles felt his blood pressure rise. He looked sharply at Winston, who was now taking a call on his cell phone. Could this really be happening?

Winston turned to Charles holding his cell phone out like a revolver. “It’s… it’s the bank. They want to call their loan to Green Ocean.”

Charles waved off the phone and glared at the television. The reporter continued, “Private-equity owner of Green Ocean, Charles Harrington, couldn’t immediately be reached for comment. But major food service customers across the US claim to be cutting any business ties to this company.”

Charles noticed all six of his phone lines light up sequentially. His secretary ran in and said, “Mr. Harrington — I’ve got Burger Queen and Dairy King on the line for you. Something about frozen lizard shakes that you’re shipping…”

Charles yelled, “Get me the plant manager at Green Ocean. NOW!”

A minute later, Charles had the local plant manager on the phone. A deep southern voice emanated lazily from the receiver. “Why howdy, Mr. Harrington. Vern here — remember me?”

Charles barely remembered their first and only meeting. Vern had seemed like a nice enough guy — if somewhat dull. Charles had asked him in passing if he had quality assurance under control, and Vern’s vague answer seemed good enough at the time.

“Vern!” Charles boomed, “We have a major problem here. The banks are calling their loans. Our customers are cutting ties. HHS and God-knows who else is going to be parading in there any time now. And do you know why?”

There was a long silence before Vern drawled, “Is that a trick kind o’ question, Mr. Harrington? Why, everything here is just fine. No problems here. We just froze and sent another big ‘ol shipment to McDougal’s.”

In the background, the news reporter announced, “And in further related news, Internet memes say Gekko Insurance will now offer free shakes with their yearly car insurance plan…”

Charles’ hands shook as he yelled into the receiver. “Vern, Goddammit. Did you check all quality assurance procedures? Have there been any breaches? Are the fruit cleaning and processing systems working?”

“Yes sir, couldn’t be better here.” Vern was like a truck that was stuck in slow gear. “All is A-OK.”

Maybe — just maybe — Charles thought, this was McDougal’s fault. Just a big misunderstanding. Yes, there must be some other explanation. Just to make sure, he spat, “Vern, are you absolutely sure nothing is out of the ordinary?”

Vern sounded confused. “All good here.” Vern paused. “Except, maybe, just…”

“What, Vern?”

“Well,” Vern continued lethargically, “Just one thing. It shouldn’t be that big a deal, but I can’t seem to find my pet lizard. That little bugger was crawlin’ around here a few weeks ago near the strawberry drums, but he gone done disappeared.”

“Vern!” Charles’ veins popped out of his neck. “Do you mean to tell me, you brought a pet lizard to the food processing facility? And…and…you lost it?”

“Now Mr. Harrington, you know that wasn’t just any ol’ pet. It was my therapy lizard. Them’s protected by rights. I can even take him on a plane these days.”

The world got dark around the periphery of Charles’ eyes. Winston was now on three phone lines plus his cell phone, seemingly to tell all who called that Charles was not available. Charles’ head pounded and he sagged in his chair. Impossible as it seemed, his investment, his investor’s cash and his reputation as a business genius had evaporated in the span of a few minutes. And all because of a single stray lizard.

While Charles felt his consciousness ebb and the receiver slip from his ear, he thought that he heard Vern say casually, “And one more thing, Mr. Harrington. To be honest, I can’t seem to find my pet rat neither.”