GREENBACK

“…These places exist in our minds so that we can dream…”

Ever wondered how the rich got, well, rich? Assuming, of course, it is success found in strained faith. In which case nearly all flashback walks will start with humble beginnings. Those befitting starts such as “In the smoky hut of Aketch a girl was born to them” and something about acrid air reading a bit on. Those of us who cleared High School all those many years back (like they’re many) might know that excerpt. They might know that that is an excerpt in the first place. The River & the Source by Margaret A. Ogola, not ignoring the largely exaggerated ampersand that filled the cover page. It was a great read, but you actually had to go through reading it to know what it was about…so much for blurbs and making life easier. Anyway, I ask not out of envy, but because I want to join the crew. To have my name engraved in golden parking cards like I’ll be setting my guzzler up inside a hangar. No, scratch that…my chauffeur. I’ll be in the back. They sit at the back. I’ll be in the back extending a gloved knuckle towards a pearly tinted window to give it a light knock for some random dude in tux to come and open my door partly because I’d have worked my million dollar ass off to be above opening my own doors and partly because I’d be too lazy to do it myself! (Catches breath.) Then to walk out, breathe in, feel important, and step onto the red carpet that would lead me where it may. That kind of life. Photojournalists scrambling over just to ask who I’m wearing, after hacking a barricade of bodyguards of course. Gone would be the days when the obvious answer to that question would be someplace like Toi, or Gikosh, in which case the only scrambling would be you attending to an egg in your rented kitchenette watching people on the Red Carpet saying who they’d be wearing who you’d be wearing if life didn’t freaking wear you out.

On though, to the matter at hand… money in hand using the rich man’s jargon. If I suddenly got rich, I don’t have an idea where I’d start in all honesty. 10% would go in as tithe at my Church, and the ninety would probably find its way into my BetIn. Eye the stakes, risk responsibly and probably end up twice as rich. Maybe even change my name to 2Rich if my financial status found favor with the sporting world, those being two names. No space in between. Critics would call me out on that but I’d buy their grammar, cause well, money… If world peace had a price I’d buy that too. I’d probably end up bidding against Donald Trump or Richard Branson on it but I’d still outbid them, cause well, again, money… and end up buying them too. But all these remain fantasies every being plays out in their mind. Mostly right before looking around and noticing our wallets staring back at us like they want to be fed, and turning away feeling insulted like who should be feeding who…

I don’t know what others might do if money ever reached out to them. This time as a friend. Benefits notwithstanding. Or maybe living in a world where poverty never existed. Where everyone is a big spender, standing out would be impossible. Maybe then give it a name… Someplace that rhymes with Fubai. I don’t know, sounds familiar. It’s not. Trust me. But these places exist in our minds so that we can dream. A guy can dream. His wallet too, when it’s not giving him awkward stares. In this slumber we live on the edge, however literal, and come back to reality with a fire to make our lives great again. Flames that die as fast as the dreams fade in our minds. But with a little fanning, and a lot of sweating from standing too close to the fire, we can live out our dreams… 

Moral: Get rich quick!

_Dm

4 thoughts on “GREENBACK”

  1. I hope I can be pardoned for throwing a fit when I got to the end of this. Who else expected it could go on forever??

    Lets tell the author to start writing novels….. Where his skill can entertain one for days on end.

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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