Mr. Market

"Pandemic? Oh I don't like the sound of that. Oh no." Mr. Market hung up the phone. His legs felt wobbly, his television-monitor-head, displaying all of the relevant stock information, felt light. "Oh boy," he said. "Pandemic." Turning towards the stairs, Mr. Market called out, "Honey, sell the furniture."

"Sell what furniture?" came the reply from the upstairs bedroom.

"Our furniture!" Mr. Market yelled. "Better sell Rufus, too. We won't be able to feed him. Where's your family silver? Oh boy."

Unsteadily, as if there was an earthquake, Mr. Market made his way to the library. Here, among thousands of volumes, encompassing the whole of human knowledge and wisdom, Mr. Market found his dictionary. Shaking, he flipped through its pages.

"Padlock, pager, pandemic..."

"Pandemic: a disease spread over the whole country or world." Mr. Market looked up. His head was swimming.

"A DISEASE?"

He uttered a short burst of hysterical laughter.

Mr. Market trotted to the center of the library and put the dictionary on the floor. Then he trotted back over to the shelves and got some more books. Then he went back to the center of the library and put these on the floor as well. He began to hum a happy little tune.

Then he went over to its desk, and from his desk, he dug out a book of matches. Then he went back over to the pile of books and struck a match. Then his wife came in through the door.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Market's wife asked.

"Oh, just burning our house down," Mr. Market said. He turned and looked at her. "For the insurance money."

"Should I tell the staff?"

"No time. They're on their own from now on. Civilization has broken down."

"That's too bad." Mrs. Market watched Mr. Market for a little while longer as he tried to burn the house down. But the pile of books merely smoldered and sputtered and made a black mark on the carpet.

"It's no use," Mr. Market finally said. "I'll have to hire the job out."

"Oh, honey!" Mrs. Market's warning indicators began to flash. "Honey, look in the mirror!"

Mr. Market ran to the mirror and looked at his reflection. He gasped. A clear downward trend! Scrambling out of the library, he rushed past Mrs. Market, up the stairs and into the master bath, Mrs. Market hurrying after him. He slammed the door shut.

Mrs. Market stood outside, wringing her hands anxiously. "What does it say? Oh, what does it say?"

The door opened slowly. "3,000 points." Mr. Market said. "The scale says I've lost 3,000 points already. My trends are clear: I'll probably be down 30% altogether this week." Mr. Market gasped for air and leaned against the door.

"Let's get you into bed, poor dear," Mrs. Market said.

Once Mr. Market was safely tucked in bed, Mrs. Market rang the servant's bell. A moment later, the thunderous tramp of hundreds of feet could be heard ascending the stairs, then marching down the hallway. Mrs. Market opened the door.

In front of her stood their staff: hundreds of men in crisp suits, wearing wire-rimmed spectacles and carrying briefcases, with sensible haircuts and serious dispositions.

Mrs. Market looked at them with pain on her television-charts. "Mr. Market is ill," she told them.

They drew back in unison, horrified. "Master? Master is ill?" They turned and began to jabber amongst themselves, their fingers jabbing down into their open palms as they explained the situation to each other. Others stood with crossed arms and knitted brows, listening reasonably. Finally they turned back to Mrs. Market. "What ever shall we do for poor master?"

Mrs. Market wrung her hands. "There's nothing we can do!" she exclaimed. "We're doomed! Doomed!"

The men in the suits sank to their knees and began to wail in pain. "Doomed! Doomed!" they screamed out in unison.

"Unless!" Mrs. Market said. "I have heard of a medicine for this condition."

The men instantly brightened. "Saved! We're saved!" They linked arms and began to hop and skip and exult. "What is this medicine? How do we get it?"

"Well," Mrs. Market said, "it's called a bailout. And here's how we get it." In whispers, Mrs. Market began to explain the plan, and the men inclined their ears and their eyes shone.