Wealth

Wealth lives on a private island off the coast of Madagascar. On rainy days she strolls through her florier, admiring the original Birth of Venus she swindled out of a museum curator's hands. She sips martinis and nibbles caviar while listening to Moonlight Sonata. Wealth lives a life of ease and confinement. She never plays in the mud, or forgets her manners, or socializes with trailer-trash Rowdy. No, no Wealth is conservative and reserved-- a lady.

Wealth  manipulates the naive with promises of happiness she doesn’t intend to keep. When her friends ask her for advice, she tells them, “Go get a few more diamond rings and you’ll feel much better.” You see, Wealth strives to be friends with Power. In middle school, Wealth sat in wonder while Power stood over little 6th graders, commanding them to give him their lunch money and the cupcakes their mothers baked with love. She admires Power’s ruthlessness, envies his entitlement. Wealth believes the more money she hones, the closer she and Power will become. When Truth and Altruism ask her to put her money towards underprivileged schools and environment-sustaining projects, she sticks up her nose and snickers in their faces. “I don’t throw money towards causes that don’t benefit me,” she sneers.

Wealth is blind. She lost her sight in her late-twenties after severing friendships and family ties for a PhD in the money-making degree of Law. Her glance sweeps by the hungry faces of the homeless men who sit outside of her office. The garden in her backyard with a mini replica of the Buckingham Fountain represents her view of a simple pleasure in life. Nature is dirt and grime that soil her pleated skirts.

Wealth doesn’t pay taxes. She embezzles and bribes to snatch tax-payers’ money. The only loyal relationship she maintains is to Capitalism and Mass-Production who feed her, clothe her, pay for each pair of of her shiny Jimmy Choos. It’s a nice life, an easy life, a life that keeps her manicured hands free from chips.

But in the end, Wealth is lonely. When she dies, no one mourns her loss. They move on to the next big investor. All she brings with her is the wrinkles the Estee Lauder face cream no longer covers, saggy boobs, gray, scraggly, unstraightened hair, and regret.The pearly gates tower before her and a soft voice whispers, “What did you do that was meaningful?” Wealth looks back at the world she left and drops her head. With a nod to the gentle voice above, she shuffles to the steps leading to a burning pit of fire, where she incinerates for the rest of eternity.