After that conversation, Waylon had headed out to the pharmacy downtown, wanting to take no longer than an hour, no matter what Burns had said. It took him longer than he would have liked to get there.
The automatic doors slid open as he walked inside, thinking ahead to finding what he needed and getting back to the manor.
Scanning one of the aisles, Waylon found what he needed and went to the checkout, where he had to stand in line behind two others. When the woman in the front of the line finished totalling her absurd amount of toilet paper and paper towels, he stepped forward but stopped when he noticed what the man in front of him was reading. Some local rag, for sure, he thought it was the Springfield Enquirer, a garbage publication. But he thought he saw Burns' name in the type. Could it be the article Homer had spoken of?
He tried to read it over the man's shoulder, to see the title, but the man flipped the page, and there was a photograph, though slightly grainy, of Burns in that bar, drunk.
How had something that had just happened the night before made this week's issue of the Enquirer? Then again, it was a hastily put together thing that would without a doubt cling to some sensationalist nonsense one night before the issue came out, if they thought it would make them money.
He desperately wanted to ask the man to borrow the magazine but wondered if he would be recognised. Was there also a picture of him? And most importantly, what was the article actually about? Just his and Burns' apparent romance?
At the register, he set what he had come there for on the counter, and then took every copy of the Enquirer from the rack.
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "You know, people don't usually buy six copies of anything. You have a club or something?"
"Not exactly." Waylon handed them his card, not wanting to have a trivial conversation. He hastened to leave, then unlocked the car, dumped the tabloids on the passenger seat, and picked up a copy resting on top of the pile. He would probably burn the rest, though that wouldn't make up for the other copies that had circulated around town by now.
He sat in the car in a far corner of the parking lot and looked at the magazine cover. There near the bottom left, a caption: Has Monty Burns finally found love? P. 12.
Waylon wanted to laugh at the absolute stupidity of the title. And he did- though it didn't diminish his growing anger. The audacity.
What right did they have to make an article about Burns, who could sue the Enquirer and effectively put them out of business with a wave of his hand, if he wished? He knew that Burns was technically a public figure, but the indecency and absurdity disgusted him.
He opened the thing and flipped to page 12, not caring if he creased or tore any previous pages in his haste.
It wasn't a major article, so it didn't get as much space as those would; it got the bottom half of a page, but any space devoted to it was too much. Waylon read the title several times. The domestic life of Springfield's nuclear billionaire: C. M. Burns spotted at Galley Reel bar with partner(?)
He looked at the next page for the picture. Some lowlife had snapped a picture of Burns while he was drunk. And on the previous page with the 'article', there was a small picture of him, dragging Burns out of the bar. The caption read: Waylon Smithers, sources confirm. So, someone at the bar had recognised him, or had seen the picture before publication. The Enquirer could churn itself out very quickly; this had just happened the night before.
Though his vision was blurred, and his hands shook, he read some of the article. The Enquirer made mention of the man in the orange vest who had taken Burns to be Waylon's boyfriend.
YOU ARE READING
New Reflections (Burnsmithers)
Fanfiction[Complete] One day, Mr Burns wonders what it would be like if he and Smithers were closer in age; if he, Burns, were younger. The next morning is as usual until Waylon discovers Burns has undergone a drastic change overnight- one that affects them b...
