Kotzenburg Ch.8

Nepo-Baby’s Day Out

By Chris Wunderlich

                Thurston Hamm grew up in one of the big city’s wealthiest families. He knew Polly Cloud, and her brother Jimmy, but considered himself in a class above them. His father, Olaf Hamm, owned prime real estate, a malicious parking-lot conglomerate, and several large businesses that would be despised if only the public knew what they did. And what they did was make money—tons of it, all the time. Thurston knew he would inherit the business, the fortune, the throne—he hadn’t a care in the world. It came as quite a shock then when Father Hamm decreed his challenge to Thurston. Before inheriting the kingdom, Thurston had to prove himself worthy. He had to take a normal living expense and make something of himself. He had to prove to his father that, even without the Hamm Family Business, he was capable of great achievements. He was entirely unprepared for such things.

                Thurston first went to his friends, all of whom were also obscenely wealthy and set to inherit vast estates. But Olaf had made his challenge known. Not a single soul in the big city was to bail Thurston out, lest they be shunned by the great Hamms. He had to go beyond his comfort zone. Thurston tried overseas relatives, friends of friends—even rival businessmen! But they all turned him away. Olaf was serious about this test.

                With his resources nearly exhausted, Thurston acquiesced and ventured out of the big city, down the highway, to where other rich folk had claimed their stake. With his head hung low, he made Kotzenburg his home. If the “lesser rich” Clouds could partner with the uber-wealthy Vadim Domokos and make something of themselves, there was hope for the affluent yet.

                Jimmy Cloud, defunded, jaded, and ever the hot head, laughed at Thurston’s fate. He refused to help him in any way—not due to any of Olaf’s threats, as the old man didn’t take stock in Kotzenburg’s chances—but because he plain didn’t like Thurston. Polly, on the other hand, was too polite to dismiss him outright. She warned Thurston not to get involved with Vadim, not to venture downtown into the nest of teen gangs, not to drive on the highways or go near the microwave factory or try to take a boat out onto the lake. Kotzenburg had its fair share of problems, and she was simply too busy trying to solve them all to entertain Thurston’s pathetic pleas. He’d hoped he could get a neighborhood of his own, just like Vadim—but his allowance simply wouldn’t cover it.

                Something about Polly struck a chord with Thurston, though. He admired her enthusiasm, her persistence, her popularity—and she was quite the looker, to boot. He’d known tycoon daughters in the past and wooed a dozen, at least—but never a mayor! Surely to win the affections of a self-made woman would show his father what kind of man he’d become. And Polly was connected to both Vadim Domokos and the Hesse Company—that was nothing to scoff at.

                So, he set himself to it—to solve every problem in Kotzenburg. After all, it was a relatively small town, and he was prince of the big city. He was practically a god to the small-town folk, in his mind.

                Thurston’s first stop was to the biggest and most obvious troublemaker in town—Hesse. He arrived at the Microwave Facility and demanded to speak to their union leader. He’d play the part of interested businessman, feign interest in buying the factory, and get the workers riled up and on his side. He’d heard all the stories about Mr. Skinner and the stranglehold Hesse held over the town. Thurston thought, with a competitor on the scene and a disgruntled workforce, Mr. Skinner would take flight. As with every problem he’d ever faced, Thurston thought simply being the richest person in the room would also make him the winner.

                But things didn’t go according to plan, of course. George, the beloved time-displaced union leader, had gone missing shortly after the Aron Warburton affair, and the union had all but dissolved. Not understanding the task at hand, Thurston figured he’d institute himself as union leader by default. He took to storming the factory, waving an oversized wrench (the only symbol of labor he knew) and shouting slogans he’d heard strikers chant in the past. The Hamm’s encountered very few strikes amongst their businesses, and when they occurred, they were quickly (and cruelly) snuffed out. The workers didn’t buy Thurston’s charade, though. He was thoroughly ignored. They’d had their fill of rich businessmen.

                With little luck at the factory, Thurston decided to take the fight directly to Mr. Skinner’s door. The trouble was, Mr. Skinner was nearly impossible to find (unless he wanted to be found). This kept unhappy employees, tenants, and townspeople on their toes. Mr. Skinner’s appearances were brief, frightening, and unexpected. Thurston tried to track him, but, running low on his meager allowance and discovering his new passion for giving up quickly, the search was put on hold. Thurston had little patience for things that were difficult. Usually, he’d pay to have these problems solved—hiring private investigators and lawyers and such. Operating as one of the “less rich” proved quite a challenge, indeed.

                Hesse would have to wait. Vadim Domokos was the next thorn to be pulled. Thurston felt if he could buy Vadim’s favor, the two could wipe out Kotzenburg’s other issues with ease. But Vadim had all the rich connections money could buy—he knew why Thurston was in Kotzenburg. He’d heard of Olaf’s test. When Thurston presented himself at Vadim’s castle, in the fancy new Domokos neighborhood, he wasn’t fooling the tycoon with his rich-boy façade. Vadim knew Thurston lacked both favor and fortune. He didn’t get beyond the gates. But Thurston did buy himself a home in Domokos—a small, albeit still ridiculously overpriced home. He needed a base of operations, and he wasn’t prepared to live amongst the plebs of Kotzenburg. He was there to save them, not wallow in their filth!

                Fed up, Thurston’s next plan of attack was somewhat cruder. By cover of night, he took his fancy, luxury model sports-utility-vehicle to the edges of Domokos, and with his trusty wrench, destroyed every street sign he came across. At first, he thought this would anger Vadim. Without yields or stops or “slow down, children at play”, chaos would surely ensue. He didn’t have any goal beyond that, nor an intellect to consider a greater aim. But each morning, the signs reappeared. And after a week of futility, Thurston decided to finally wait until morning to see who was replacing the signs. A large, serious looking man came by in his truck, took the damaged signs and installed the new ones. Thurston, though not usually violent, determined the man had to go, and struck him from behind with his wrench. Bob Hogg didn’t go down so easily, though, and struck Thurston right back. None of this bothered Vadim. None of this impressed Polly.

                Armed with a black eye and impressive affinity for quitting, Thurston moved on to the Lake Erie problem. He drove to the shore and stared at the muddy coast. It stank of rotting fish. It was littered with seagulls, algae, and bugs. If Thurston could only bring the water back to the coastline, he thought, Kotzenburg would thrive. Polly would swoon. His father would applaud. But it was simply too large a task—so he resigned immediately and drove away.

                It was while driving that Thurston got a firsthand taste of Vadominator Parkway. Drivers felt there was no speed limit, that lane lines were merely a suggestion, and any vehicle not blazing its own path down the road at Mach-3 was simply an obstacle for those that were. It was terrifying, and had Thurston read the statics on accidents occurring in Kotzenburg, he may have avoided the highway altogether. But instead, he hopped on the Vadominator near Lake Erie and tried to make his way back home, to Domokos. After being cut off violently three times within a minute, he swerved to a downtown cutoff. Demons possessed the drivers of Kotzenburg, surely.

                Downtown didn’t fare any safer. Buildings, condemned and abandoned, painted a grim picture of post-industrial decay. Thurston crawled through the core of the town, taking in the sad state of affairs. He didn’t dare stop. At the first red light he couldn’t ignore, a group of boys with obviously no parental input on their hairdos, crossed the street and eyed Thurston’s expensive vehicle. When he raised his wrench to show the group how (pathetically) capable he was of defending himself, one in the group threw a cup of indistinguishable liquid. Thurston sped through the rest of the downtown, without a care for stop signs or any who dwelt there. He’d never been so desperate to find a carwash.

                It was at this time that Thurston admitted his defeat. In the past, his best efforts had been met with empty praise. He’d never truly failed before, always able to rely on his father’s money or good reputation. But when he knelt at the feet of Polly Cloud and told her of his many adventures—his many, absurd, misguided attempts to cure the diseased Kotzenburg—he felt he’d finally been humbled. And this revelation, he imagined, would shine through. He thought Polly would finally see him as an honest man, full of noble intentions and passion. In the movies, that’s what truly won hearts. But Polly laughed. She thanked him for his efforts. She introduced him to Roger, her husband. And Thurston was not impressed.