December 20, 2008
Friends with money
“So how’s things?” I ask, shifting my cell phone to the other ear.
“Well…” she sighs, “have you heard about Bernard Madoff?”
“Oh. He’s the guy with the…Ponzi…”
“Yeah. We…had all our money with him.”
She laughs. Thank god. This girl, she’s beautiful and smart, but the money didn’t come until an earnest guy from our college hunted her down after graduation and wooed her. Now they’re the friends who fly to the Caymans. Or, they were.
* * *
“I mean, shit, I wasn’t raised with money. But, damn. And his family…to lose millions–”
I make an attempt at condolences.
“…and millions, and millions, and MILLIONS. Damn.”
Damn.
She tells me about how she returned a recently purchased wardrobe. Austerity measures. The store was in the NICE mall, and everyone was looking.
“And the Christmas music was just playing in the background…”
* * *
“His parents, they normally just give us cash for Christmas. We already have the envelope, so I was like, we have to open this.”
“Yeah?”
“I thought about steaming it open while he was gone, but I haven’t. It has the World Wildlife Fund logo on the outside; I think they named us a fucking panda.”
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my sympathies. HA!
farkin’ brill.
AND they will have to forgo the roast panda on Christmas day!
Life can indeed be cruel…