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Possession. Obsession. Recession.
By jon | December 21, 2008
Craig Ehlo stared into his glass and confiscated his future. Half full? Half empty? Or just Totally Messed Up? For as long as he could remember he had been rattling around these cruddy streets like a nickel in a piggy bank’s butt.
Craig was a Made Man. He knew the Wall Street Game like a woodland creature somehow knows not to eat it’s own poop. Buy high, sell high, loosen the knot thing on you’re tie, and wait for the domino’s to fall. While all those other jokers on Wall Street were playing hop scotch, Craig was playing Domino Rally. And thusly he had made his fortune; a fortune so big that if I told you how big it was, you would flop around on the floor and have a Caesar.
But their were things that money could not buy. A wife. A family. Ruddy, rubbernecked children playing their Gameboys by the flaccid warmpth of the fire place. Electronic silverware. These were appliances that none man dare beholden, only bequeath.
“Theirs no answer at the bottom of this glass of this thing which I’m drinking,” Craig realized. He looked up. The club was extemporaneous. Suits, ties, fancy dresses. People laughing and eating cheeses. A scene straight out of “Blank Check.” And yet, Craig felt instead like Kurt Russell in “Breakdown.” He was Furious. He messed up his hair. He looked like a Beatle.
He stood up, gave his glass to the waiter’d, and spilled out into the street like a Big Gulp in the tiny hands of a clumsy child. “Taxi!” he screamed. “Hailcab!” He climbed into the waiting taxi and road home. The Manhatten lights echoed through the window and across his face. He looked like a Paula Abdul record. His only solaces were the firm, artrock strains of Papa Roach flowing through the stereo:
Theres no money theres no possession only
Obsession I dont need that shit
Take my money take my possession take my obsession
I dont need that shit
Because everything is nothing
And emptiness isnt everything
This reality is really just a fucked up dream
With the flesh and the blood that you call your soul
Flip it inside out its a big black hole
Take your money burn it up like an asteroid
Possession though youre never gonna feel the void
Take it away and learn your best lesson
The heart the soul the life the passion
And before he knew it, this Wall Street Warrior was home. He got out, handed his coat and tie to the Maitre’Door, and took the Penthouse elevator to his Penthouse.
His Penthouse was as elegant as Leandor Barbosa in a dinner jacket. From the walls hung pictures and paintings and Japanese stuff. “Look at this. Possession, obsession. Big black hole sun, won’t you come, and wash away the rain.” The song was stuck in his gut like a Spear of Destiny.
He sat down at his computer and checked the Stocks. Up, as always. He looked at the charts. Vertical as the snowboarding monkey from Most Valuable Primate 2: Most Vertical Primate.
Craig Ehlo grinned a grin of Menace. He picked up the phone. “Yes. I would like to sell one billion shares of Googlecom. Outsider trading? No. I would like to insider trade it this time. I know it’s against protocol! Just sell those freaking Googlecoms or your fired.”
And with that, he blew the economy into Kingdom Kong.
Topics: By: Jon | No Comments »