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Feardeal Academy was a Boarding School in Massachusetts where many of New York’s well-to-do families sent their progeny for their undergraduate studies. It was an institution that taught discipline and obedience but also gave students skills and understanding. It also allowed those parents the ability to have some time to themselves for the bulk of the year at least until June, when there were three weeks between school and the start of Summer Sleepaway Camp season. But it was really about the learning that these second-generation future leaders and future absentee parents were getting that made it worth the exorbitant cost.
By all rights, Tronald Dump probably should not have been permitted to even apply to the school. His parents net income from their real estate business was barely passable at the time of his enrollment. But thanks to Tronald’s father, the real estate developer, Tred Frump (there was a name change along the way, let’s not dwell on it), who got a couple of Feardeal’s board members some commercial property in Manhattan, young Tronald found his way in to the school.
Early on, Young Tronald was quiet and pensive, content to remain an observer, based on how his father demanded he be when they were together. But soon, Tronald was becoming a voice to be heard and a force to be noted. He began becoming a notable classroom commenter and forming coalitions with his fellow students. After a few semesters, the name of Tronald Dump was known by every administration, faculty and student body member.
One day Tronald and some of his pals went to a local eatery, as they would do on a regular basis, taking a Saturday to spend some time off campus. At some point after the crab cakes and before the bananas foster, the conversation turned to the topic of ethics, which was one of the points of discussion on an upcoming exam.
“What is ethics, really?” Tronald asked the collective. “Is it a system of ‘right’ and ‘wrong,’ or is it an obstacle to success that we must move beyond to reach a greater truth?”
His friends sat silently, mulling over the concept. Dump jumped in again.
“I think it’s the ladder,” he said. “It’s the way of climbing over and beyond to succeed in a way no one has done before, and in a way no one has thought to try before.”
One fellow was about to reply, when Tronald continued his musing.
“Ethics is something that other people need to deal with in their daily lives. It’s the rules that they have to follow because they don’t know any better!” Dump smiled and sliced into his tenderloin, the blood still dripping from its center and daubed a bit of A-1 Sauce on it before popping it into his mouth. “That isn’t us. That isn’t us. As the future leaders of this country, we have to be able to explore everything. And because we have the money, the intellect and the know-how, we do.”
At first the others remained still, but then a couple began to nod, until all of them were in agreement.
Tronald smiled as he speared a succulent piece of lobster and dipped it into some butter sauce.
“Let me ask you this one, gentlemen,” Dump continued. “We’re starting to see the Negroes getting more vocal. The Negroes of the nineteen-sixties might be trying to get special privileges from the government. Maybe they’ll be moving into your neighborhood? What do we do? How do we handle this?”
Again the rest of the table remained silent as they all thought about the question.
“I’ll tell you what we do,” Tronald said. “We just continue to make and support laws that are to the benefit of those in charge, because that is how we can continue to keep an advantage.” Dump shrugged as he first glanced, then looked deeply into the eyes of the others, making sure he didn’t see any twinge of doubt coming from them.
“I’m glad to see you all are in agreement,” Dump said, finishing off his last savory bite of steak. “To me, it’s important to have a coalition of right thinking, same thinking people who can accomplish a lot. It’s necessary to have that kind of a group because anyone who isn’t thinking the same way is thinking differently, and that gets in the way of getting to the same place, you know what I mean?”
“My father was instrumental, in-stru-men-tal, mind you, about making sure the laws that are on the books are there to help the people they need to help and to not help the people we don’t want them to help,” Dump stated. “My father gave me a lot of good advice as well, and that includes a lot of things that only we should know,” Tronald smiled as he looked around the table at his supporters.
Still later, after the meal was over, Dump had a few more points to make.
“Lads, and I mean this with a great deal of respect, You are a great part of who I am. No! I mean that. Whether you know it or not, you inspire me, you motivate me, you help me. And because of that, I want you to always be a part of my Inner Circle.”
Trump was glowing as he pointed at each of them, until they each broke out into a grin.
“You guys are going to stay with me, because you understand and appreciate me. And I know that many times, many times after graduation, people lose track of one another, or don’t really have time… I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always support you and I’ll always be there for you because you have always been there for me.”
The waiter walked over to the booth with the check, then wordlessly turned and walked away.
“The only thing you guys don’t ever do is cover the bill!” Tronald laughed and went for his wallet. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”
“We are definitely on the cutting edge. We are on the way to this new decade and beyond,” he winked.
The waiter came and took the bill.
“You can keep that.” Trump called as he stood up and straightened his school uniform, which he wore, even on a Saturday, and waved again to the waiter.
The waiter waved back. Despite his lack of stature relative to the high schooler, the waiter couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Tronald Dump, who always came in, just as he did today, always to dine, always all alone.
//
This work of fiction was written for LJ Idol using the prompt Going forward
By all rights, Tronald Dump probably should not have been permitted to even apply to the school. His parents net income from their real estate business was barely passable at the time of his enrollment. But thanks to Tronald’s father, the real estate developer, Tred Frump (there was a name change along the way, let’s not dwell on it), who got a couple of Feardeal’s board members some commercial property in Manhattan, young Tronald found his way in to the school.
Early on, Young Tronald was quiet and pensive, content to remain an observer, based on how his father demanded he be when they were together. But soon, Tronald was becoming a voice to be heard and a force to be noted. He began becoming a notable classroom commenter and forming coalitions with his fellow students. After a few semesters, the name of Tronald Dump was known by every administration, faculty and student body member.
One day Tronald and some of his pals went to a local eatery, as they would do on a regular basis, taking a Saturday to spend some time off campus. At some point after the crab cakes and before the bananas foster, the conversation turned to the topic of ethics, which was one of the points of discussion on an upcoming exam.
“What is ethics, really?” Tronald asked the collective. “Is it a system of ‘right’ and ‘wrong,’ or is it an obstacle to success that we must move beyond to reach a greater truth?”
His friends sat silently, mulling over the concept. Dump jumped in again.
“I think it’s the ladder,” he said. “It’s the way of climbing over and beyond to succeed in a way no one has done before, and in a way no one has thought to try before.”
One fellow was about to reply, when Tronald continued his musing.
“Ethics is something that other people need to deal with in their daily lives. It’s the rules that they have to follow because they don’t know any better!” Dump smiled and sliced into his tenderloin, the blood still dripping from its center and daubed a bit of A-1 Sauce on it before popping it into his mouth. “That isn’t us. That isn’t us. As the future leaders of this country, we have to be able to explore everything. And because we have the money, the intellect and the know-how, we do.”
At first the others remained still, but then a couple began to nod, until all of them were in agreement.
Tronald smiled as he speared a succulent piece of lobster and dipped it into some butter sauce.
“Let me ask you this one, gentlemen,” Dump continued. “We’re starting to see the Negroes getting more vocal. The Negroes of the nineteen-sixties might be trying to get special privileges from the government. Maybe they’ll be moving into your neighborhood? What do we do? How do we handle this?”
Again the rest of the table remained silent as they all thought about the question.
“I’ll tell you what we do,” Tronald said. “We just continue to make and support laws that are to the benefit of those in charge, because that is how we can continue to keep an advantage.” Dump shrugged as he first glanced, then looked deeply into the eyes of the others, making sure he didn’t see any twinge of doubt coming from them.
“I’m glad to see you all are in agreement,” Dump said, finishing off his last savory bite of steak. “To me, it’s important to have a coalition of right thinking, same thinking people who can accomplish a lot. It’s necessary to have that kind of a group because anyone who isn’t thinking the same way is thinking differently, and that gets in the way of getting to the same place, you know what I mean?”
“My father was instrumental, in-stru-men-tal, mind you, about making sure the laws that are on the books are there to help the people they need to help and to not help the people we don’t want them to help,” Dump stated. “My father gave me a lot of good advice as well, and that includes a lot of things that only we should know,” Tronald smiled as he looked around the table at his supporters.
Still later, after the meal was over, Dump had a few more points to make.
“Lads, and I mean this with a great deal of respect, You are a great part of who I am. No! I mean that. Whether you know it or not, you inspire me, you motivate me, you help me. And because of that, I want you to always be a part of my Inner Circle.”
Trump was glowing as he pointed at each of them, until they each broke out into a grin.
“You guys are going to stay with me, because you understand and appreciate me. And I know that many times, many times after graduation, people lose track of one another, or don’t really have time… I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always support you and I’ll always be there for you because you have always been there for me.”
The waiter walked over to the booth with the check, then wordlessly turned and walked away.
“The only thing you guys don’t ever do is cover the bill!” Tronald laughed and went for his wallet. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”
“We are definitely on the cutting edge. We are on the way to this new decade and beyond,” he winked.
The waiter came and took the bill.
“You can keep that.” Trump called as he stood up and straightened his school uniform, which he wore, even on a Saturday, and waved again to the waiter.
The waiter waved back. Despite his lack of stature relative to the high schooler, the waiter couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Tronald Dump, who always came in, just as he did today, always to dine, always all alone.
//
This work of fiction was written for LJ Idol using the prompt Going forward
