Okay, okay, okay. You deserve the truth for having hung in there so long. After over a month of posts where I’ve claimed to be somebody different everyday – Tom Cruise, an underground Barbie doll dealer, a washed up punk rocker, a ten year old from Korea – well it’s time I come clean. 
     I’m a lowly retail employee and I work at London Drugs in Vancouver, BC. I’m just really bored with my job. I make myself look busy by typing away at one of the many computers that we sell but really I’m just making shit up. I’m just killing time.  Here comes my manager, I’ve got to write this quickly.
    I’ve told him I’m a programmer and I’m trying to debug the computer with this brand new computer language that looks a lot like regular English. He’s such an idiot.
    Anyway here’s the story of the day. I’ve written it based on a homeless dude who always sneaks in the store and tries to sleep in aisle B, shampoos and soaps. Okay enjoy…

On the backs of the Poor

     The rich have had their way with me let me tell you bub. The riche are not only getting richer but also more perverse, more fucked up. They are getting so stinking loaded that they’re entering brand new categories of psychological disorder and how wouldn’t you get a little messed up mentally if your net worth was equal to a small country. L’etat c’est moi, is what that template of insanity Napoleon said hundreds of years ago. How many economic Napoleons are out there these days ?  These new style Napoleons are so crazy with money that they have to invent brand new ways to humiliate the rest of the world in order to prove their superiority. The sad thing is I didn’t have any money at the time and I didn’t know what else I could do. I was on my way to a shelter and when the limo pulled up, I knew I was in for some kind of wild ride. The window went down and the limo driver asked if I wanted to earn a generous amount of money. Generous. What a word. Print that word on our money. A generous fifty. A generous ten. Yeah right. So much went through my mind at that second. I imagined getting tortured for some geezers viewing pleasure or having to perform some unspeakable act with an animal. I mean, this is what goes through your mind. You think the worse when a limo rolls up and asks if you want to make money. There are plenty of other way more handsome men out in that sea so why have you pulled up alongside lowly old me ? But he pulls the wad of bills out right then and there and I’m stunned, looking at a stack of fifties that amounts to the grand total of my earnings over my entire life so I get into the limo and I’m suddenly in another world. The windows are so dark even on the inside that I don’t see where we’re going and we drive and drive and I had no idea where we were going. When we finally settled at our final stop, I was almost dozing off. The seats were really soft and it was so warm back there. Nothing like the streets. I got out of the limo and we were inside a huge garage so I had no chance of guessing where we were. I was taken through a long hallway that was basically wallpapered in paintings and the carpet was so soft. If I could walk on carpet like this I could handle the stress and shit of being the president of some huge multinational. Okay so the limo driver takes me into this room where there were three people with all these little things that looked like lego toys or something. Little buildings and cars and everything but they weren’t lego when I saw them up close. They were just little models and one of the three was like, “Okay sir please get down on your knees sir. Sir. Sir.” She was talking to me like I was the King of England but if I had been the King of England she wouldn’t have been asking me to get onto my hands and knees. I thought of the money which wasn’t yet in my pocket and I knelt down. I had to take off my shirt but nothing else. They starting sticking the buildings on my back and then they airbrushed the rest of me. It was really cold. I saw something that looked like a little red bridge that was stuck on my lower back and then there were all these little trees that followed. It pricked a little. Finally, they asked me to crawl out of the room into another room. It was humiliating, being told to crawl like a dog but what could I do. I was intent on getting that money. I crawled out into some kind of cage where there was another guy with what seemed to be a model of a city on his back. There were a couple of really rich fucks – or should I say my “patrons” – seated outside of the cage. “Ladies and Gentlemen. The battle you’ve all been waiting for. San Francisco versus Los Angles !!”  We had to fight. I was San Francisco. And that was the start to the strangest year of my life. Night after night I fought in various costumes and disguises. Yeah rich people are getting more and more perverse but what else are they going to do with all that money ? 
     Help people ?