When I'm a millionaire, I will buy all the applesauce in the world. And re-sell it at amazingly high prices. People will hate me. It will be great. Applesauce will become so scarce and rare, only the rich will be able to afford it. Other millionaires will throw great parties and they will serve applesauce, only applesauce. It will be a sign of great wealth. Prostitutes and other scantily clad women will be willing to sleep with me, if only they can have some of my applesauce, but, you see, the joke is on them. I will not be willing to give it away. Not for Sex, not for anything. Except cold, hard cash. No credit cards or cheques either. Only cash. When you have a lot of cash in your wallet, it makes you look cool, and somewhat important. Not that it matters how you look, when you have applesauce and others don't, the way you look doesn't much matter.
It will eventually become illegal to have applesauce, like a drug. The government will tell me I am creating a monopoly. I will peacefully acknowledge that, and then tell them to fuck off. And so I will carry on like this for years. Then, one day, on a seemingly normal day. The United States, with the help of Canada, and Russia, will mount an amazing military strike. Their targets will be my applesauce factories and storage bunkers. Then on one final run, they will break into my house. I will be sitting at the kitchen table, reading a novel, a large novel, possibly over 600 pages. I will be drinking too. Water. I will be drinking water. I have it all pre-determined. They will tell me to put my hands in the air. I will continue to read, and drink, and read. I will pretend to be so engaged in my book, and pretend not to notice them. They will count down from 6, not 10, or 5, but 6. When they reach 0 I will place the book beside my glass of water. I will look at the police and military officials. I will smile. I will congratulate them on a job, seemingly well done. They will look at me, notice my arrogance and ignorance. And they will kill me; they will kill me with high-powered rifles and other weapons to that effect. And so the story will go. I have everything. And then in an instant. It will all be gone. Only, I wont care much, because, of course, I will be dead.
Written and Owned by Dan Chubaty