While the guys down here on Wall Street
are collecting their $18 billion in bonuses,
most of us are watching our 401(k)—if we're
lucky enough to have one—vanish before our
eyes. Gotta wonder why that hot-dog
vendor chose to park his cart a stone's
throw from the Stock Exchange.
Notice the upward glance, seeking out that long-familiar executive suite, memories dancing within his parka of his dearest raven-haired executive secretary with those green glints in her eyes a kind of Spanish esmeralda, hoping against hope, the sheer impossibility of her ever sitting on his lap and making out with him ever again, especially now that he worked, ever standing, without any lap at all, feeling, in spite of his deep yearning for her, like the luckiest of entrepreneurial gents, owning his own business now, profitable, so long as there was a room for him at the "Y."
ReplyDeleteTG -- I swear, you can spin a gut-busting yarn out of anything! (And how DID you find that picture??)
ReplyDelete