by TYLYN
*Money
The day came when a cheapskate won the lottery. A million dollars went to the man who held up grocery store lines to pay for his entire cart in coupons, at Goodwill, hangs his underwear outside when dryers are a thing, and considers Sia’s “Cheap Thrills” to be his theme song.
“What’re you gonna do with the money?” Greedy friends and family, and nosy news reporters bombarded as they sought ways to part him from his money.
“Nothing,” he responded every time, “And no, you’re not getting any. Now ba-bye.”
So he went about his usual business each day, still a penny pincher to his last, with over a million sitting in his formerly anonymous bank account. The the day arrived when his life would be forever changed.
He fell in love. ‘Twas a stunning woman that made his heart skip, a redhead with blueberry lips on an hourglass figure, her eyes were as paralyzing as her strong wit, quite the fox indeed. Soon enough, he wooed her hand into a costly marriage, thus finding his way of life “refined.”
He strutted down sidewalks in gold-suede suits from a house worth $400,000. And his trophy wife was hooked onto his arm, a testament to his great fortune.. A dapper young man, well-dressed and of an upright vibe, walked towards him.
“Hey, um, sir. Can I have a few seconds of your time?” He asked of the miser-turned-millionaire.
“Why sure, young man. What can I do for ya?” He responded, as the young man closed in on him.
“Would you care to hand me the money?” The young man asked, still maintaining a courteous demeanor, and good posture.
“What do you mean?” The former cheapskate asked, fully befuddled by the young man’s request.
“I mean, give me what you have, or die.” The young man threatened politely, faintly nodding at the blade he held in his hand, gestured at the duo.
“But, but–” The stingy elitist stuttered.
“No buts, my friend,” the young man interrupted, “You knew this would happen if you flaunted your wealth so foolishly. Now hand it over before you lose your green and you life.” Shaken, the man gave the money he held to the young man.
“And your clothes.” The young mugger prodded, prompting widened eyes from his victim. “Now, now, give it.” He twirled his blade casually, beginning to whistle. The trophy wife turned away from her husband and stalked away, without a huff or a puff, leaving her victimized lover to the attacker, his problems no longer hers.
The man went home in undergarments that day, and found his once-exclusive driveway filled with moving trucks, his wife directing them in the removal of pricey pieces of furniture from their home. She noticed him and turned towards him as he approached.
“Filed for a divorce. Now that it’s finally happening, I get half of all of your assets, so you’re about to be broke.”
Within the following twenty-four hours, he was forced into a rock-bottom apartment, having traded in what he still had in his marriage for the same things he had prior to his wealth. And the week saw him back to his old ways, having already forgotten about the affluence and capital that was so counter to his typical lifestyle.
“Oh well,” he thought to himself, collecting coupons once more.
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