/biz/ - Business & Finance

[Anonymous No.53642272]

It was only after my eyes followed them to the base of the fat man that I saw the truth. The ground below was not a resting place for bag holders… it was strewn with lifeless marines. Thousands of them littered the grass beneath the fat man’s belly, like a blanket of corpses.
“The ones in profit offend my aesthetic,” claimed a cool, dry voice from the fat man.
I took a step back, trying to peer through the canopy of hanging fat-folds.
“What manners,” chided the dry voice. “No introduction? Staring?”
“My apologies, fat man,” I said earnestly. Then, noticing the fat man’s checkered shirt, I amended, “Sir. But I have never spoken with a fat man before and find myself at something of a loss.”
“I daresay you are. I am no fat man. No more than is a man a chair. I am Sergay. You are fortunate to find me. Many would envy you your chance.”
“Chance?” I echoed, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was speaking to me from the folds of fat. A piece of an old story tickled my memory, some scrap of folklore I’d read while scouring the boards of 4chan. “You’re an oracle,” I said.
“Oracle. How quaint. Do not try to pin me with small names. I am Sergay. I am. I see. I know.” Two iridiscent red candles fluttered broken where there had been a price chart before, held by another dead marine. “At times I betray.”
“I thought only the ones in profit offended you?”
“There is no one in profit left.” The voice was nonchalant. “And the ones in loss are ever so slightly sweet.”