Supernatural Disaster

If there's any bar out there, buy everyone a drink and put it on my tab. I'm rolling in it, and this time it's not pigshit. I've got more money than I know what to do with since I was declared a disaster.

It's not even based on my physical appearance this time. I recently had a weather phenomenon happen to me that has never happened before. The guys at the meteorological society called it "isolated catastrophe," which is fancy talk for my own private tornado. It happened in my apartment about three weeks ago, but I didn't notice the damage done to my apartment until two weeks ago, it didn't look much different. I sort of remember being lifted a few feet off the ground while I was sleeping, but you never know, it could have been some form of ESP materializing in my unconscious mind. But the state is paying me $500, and I'd much rather have that than mental powers.

I qualified for disaster relief, the first time any single person has ever done that. Though there was a married couple one time in New Jersey, but that may be just a rumor. It's a pretty sweet deal for me, that's all I know. I'm supposed to use the money to clean up my apartment and seek counseling or something, but fat chance. I'm going to blow a fourth of the money on cheese, and the other half I'll invest or just buy luxury items with.

I'm going to spend my money smartly, though. People think money is about buying things you want, but that's for amateurs. Really smart money people know you use money to make more money. They call that investing, or maybe they call it something else, but investing is a real word. You make your money work for you. You use a little money to give the impression of a lot of money. That means buying nice clothes, like a purple suit made of silk and a hat with a giant feather. Then people know you're a high roller.

I've already got my luxury things picked out. I want to buy a car with silver wheels—I thought about gold wheels, but people might steal those. You have to keep silver wheels polished all day, so I'm going to buy a $300 spank rag. Maybe I'll buy two of them, but I suppose I could buy a whole box of monogrammed napkins to do the same job. I also have my eye on a few other expensive things, like a perfume that smells like loose change and a toaster so ritzy it refuses to make toast.

It would be nice to have money, I know that. I get so sick of heating my apartment with hot water bottles and going to the bathroom out the window. Gas, electricity, indoor plumbing—they sound like pretty nice things. So I'm going to invest this money right so I can make some real money later on, keep it flowing in. One of these days I'll have that kind of money, the kind where you don't have to wear the same T-shirt with the DeFranco Family on it for years. I'll have to borrow some food to live on for a while, until the money pays off. I don't want to make the mistake of eating the cash like I did last time I came into some money.

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