Thing 22: Love and Capital

Switching gears again for the last week of the thing-a-day project. This week I’ll be writing very short stories in swift careless drafts. Without further ado:

Love and Capital

“The truth,” she said as she leaned over and whispered into his ear, “is that having money, a lot of money, feels good.”

“You mean being rich is an intrinsic good?”

“Hell no, it just feels that way. It feels real good, Bobby”

He was puzzled as to what they should do now, and where they should go next.

“Isn’t it possible that this money will, like, destroy us? Make us I don’t know, irresponsible and vain, and what, shallow?”

“Should we give it all to the rainforests, Bobby? Or the monkeys? Should we buy enough goats to feed all of Africa? Should we air-condition the planet?”

“Damn it Susan, don’t be glib. This is serious. We have an opportunity to do good things.”

“And bad things.”

“I don’t want to be evil.”

“We’ll get an investment adviser, Bobby. Relax. This is a good thing. We’re wealthy now, Bobby. We’re people of means now.”

“But what does it all mean?”

“It means we buy a yacht, Bobby, and we sail, and we fuck. A lot.”

“Each other?”

“Of course. At first.”

“And then?”

“And then you fuck whoever you want to fuck Bobby, you’re fucking rich.”

“And you?”

“I’m fucking rich too, Bobby, don’t you forget it. I can fuck the Lithuanian national rugby team if I want to.”

“Well.”

“Well. Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“Don’t you think we should do something about the body first?”

“Spoilsport. Did you bring a saw?”

“A saw.”

“Jesus, Bobby, we can’t just leave it in one piece. We need to carve it up. Don’t you think? Don’t you watch television?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“No one said it would come easy.”

There was a silence, and an awful smell.

“Don’t cry, Bobby.”

“I love you baby.”

“I love you too, Bobby, I love you too.”