The Tempestuous Philanthropist

It just wasn’t the done thing for a philanthropist to be so tempestuous. Despite his turbulent aura, his intentions were usually noble. But while he attempted to be kind and courteous, the majority of his associates thought he was a complete twit.


He would lay on decadent charity balls, but on the night lose his temper over the slightest thing. He did try to keep his cool, but continually found himself flustered over the slightest problem. Sometimes it didn’t even take a problem at all. Given a simple decision to make, his words would tumble over themselves and his gesticulations would become out of control like a rogue helicopter, turning into a gibberish whirlwind of flying limbs.


The more it happened, the angrier he got. He was angry at himself for getting angry. But this would make him angrier still, perpetuating a fury that was unstoppable until expelled verbally. In such a rollercoaster of rage and desperation, he would often spit orders at the nearest person, commanding them to fix the situation for him. He once did this to the mayor of Cambridge and is now most unwelcome in the city, despite being a generous benefactor to many events there himself.


Each time he blew his top, his emotions bounced around the room like the reflections of the very expensive disco ball he had installed. He couldn’t help but become caught up in the whirlwind of his man-made maelstrom. His resultant fits of anger were unpredictable and terrifying. Naturally, people would recoil in fear, but this would only spin his anxiety into frustration and then his temper would snap, like a worn elastic band with too much tension from being pulled in opposite directions. It was not uncommon for new associates to nearly jump out of their skin at his sudden outbursts. Those brave enough to roam close to him would conceal earplugs on their person and deploy them as soon as his voice started to staccato at the first sign of disarray.


Over time, his seething emotions toxified those around him. His mere presence seemed to turn all of his associates into hateful quidnuncs, endlessly gossiping about him when he was out of earshot. Their words and behaviour became increasingly spineless the more time they spent near him. It was most unfortunate.


On several occasions he didn’t raise a penny and had to give money to the charity himself. To compensate and try and redeem himself, he organised larger and more extravagant events.


But disaster and social expulsion followed him everywhere.










Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s