Re: RE: Bankrupt Millionaire 4/8-4/14

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#462814

nancy subsister
Participant

The phone fell to the side of his chair. His eyes were wide open and his mouth dropped to his chest. The bar-graph is still dropping as his eyes start filling with tears. From green to red and its still dropping. His wife on the phone is talking incomprehensible blabber. His portfolio is disappearing with every second. Family, name, persona mean nothing now. The sound of an dead line rings in his ears. It sounds like his heart monitor. A straight long buzz.
What does a man do now that he is worthless? He thinks as he spins his plush leather executive chair to view the gardener cutting the grass. So many Acers and so much to cut and prune. Wishing to switch spots with him, but he doesn’t even know the first thing about gardening. I can’t even afford to pay myself to cut my own grass.
The double doors that reach 40 feet into that air burst open and his assistant rushes in.
“Did you hear the news?” The assistant exclaims.
“I’ve been watching it.” He replies in a solemn dead voice.
“Your attorney and accountant are on the line.” Still out of breath.
“Tell them that I am in a conference and I’ll call them back.” His eyes still on the gardener.
The assistant leaves, the 40 foot doors close with a solid boom. The room fades and a shadow of despair swallow the room and his soul. The stagnant air is becoming thick and suffocating.
Afraid to look, he looks at the screen once again. Zero. Its never happened before. Its never happened to him. His whole life’s work gone. Profit to debt. Wealth to worthless. Security to hopelessness.
He looks to the wall, at the portrait of himself and asks, ‘why didn’t you think? Why didn’t you plan for this? Didn’t you see this coming?”
He looks down at the dark cherry wood desk drawer, pulls the key from the middle draw unlocks the secured side draw. He takes a deep breath.
He slowly opens to reveal “Desert Eagle .50.” The shine from the pistol near blinds him. The light reflected makes him retreat for just a moment. Salvation at the end of the barrel.
He rings his assistant on the intercom.
“You rang?”
“Yes I won’t be needing your services. You can go on home.” A ray of hope resonates through his voice.
“Are you sure? I can stick around if you’d like.”
“No, go home.” Getting a little annoyed.
“Yes sir.”
He turns to the vast gardens and grasps the cold steel. The gardens are so green, so sunny. The sun is shinning bright. He can feel the rays of the sun on his face. The smoke fills the air.
It smells like the fourth of July.