Jeremey Nefreuteau was a poster boy for the American dream, damnit!
His parents had immigrated from the little-known Eastern European nation of Blendork when he was just a lad, and he’d grown up in a tough steel town on the north shore of Lake Erie. From these humble beginnings, he became one of the best-paid managers in all of North America. And one of the most damaging.
Yes, he was a marvel.
As a child he learned to play the tuba, was shunned by the other kids, and tortured small wild animals for fun. (Not to cast any dispersion on the tuba-playing populace; Jeremey had been forced to play the tuba by his domineering father, Buptor Nefreuteau, who had once played flugelhorn for the Great Leader, back when Blendork was part of the Warsaw Pact.) Continue Reading →