Eat The Rich

"Eat the rich" A long standing joke among friends, family, and widespread internet communities. No one was ever meant to take it literally. When people said "Eat the rich" it was a protest against the system that allowed people to become billionaires while there were people dying because they couldn't afford insulin, and other life preserving commodities. Saying "someone start up the grill" whenever some rich asshole was caught not paying taxes was just a coping mechanism for living in a society that didn't care if you lived or died.

Lower class all his life, Martin said the phrase often. He would come home from his hellish night shift at the office to an empty apartment, a jar of his cat's ashes on the bookshelf, three missed calls from his mother. He would sit down on his couch and turn on the TV to flick through the channels, hear some news about the new big horrific event that was occurring in the world, then fall asleep to a comedy show on Netflix to try and drown out how crappy he felt inside. It wasn't that Martin didn't care about the world, but when there's nothing you can do to help, there are only so many bad things that you can take.

Martin only had three things that brought him genuine joy in his adult life. His cat which was now three weeks dead and cremated, spending quality time with his boyfriend, who had broken up with him two months past, and going on long hikes in nature, stopping to rest in sun spots shining through the trees and listening for the sounds of birds, and waterfalls, and the occasional plane passing overhead. Unfortunately it was winter, in the city. So Martin did the next best thing, he slept all day, showered, made himself a cup of tea, and tried to suppress the dull feeling he felt inside.

Martin had friends, well at least one friend, his name was Mars; a name that he'd picked out himself about a year ago after cycling through at least five others in the span of two weeks. Martin had always thought it was slightly too close to his own name, and often when someone called to one of them they would both turn their heads thinking that the shout was for them. Mars was very different from Martin in many ways, he was a punk for one, his hair in a spiked up red mullet, battle jacket and ripped jeans always covered with patches, and headphones always around his neck blaring something too loud and not to Martin's taste. Martin was much more subdued, all sweater vests, cups of tea, and indie pop. The only things that they really had in common was that they were both Queer, Trans, and shared the same views on politics. They tried to meet up every weekend to hang out, and this one was no different. For someone as non-conformist as Mars was, he always showed up on time. Martin being the type to always show up late, the two men had recently settled on the conclusion that it would be best to just meet at Martin's apartment to cut out any wait time. So when Mars knocked on Martin's door at 3pm sharp, Martin promptly took five minutes to get around to opening it.

“How are you still late? You literally live here” Mars demanded

“I was in the middle of something, and I forgot you were coming honestly” Martin replied, sinking into himself a little.

“This was in front of your door by the way, one of your neighbors must have left it” Mars offered a small black book to Martin who took it and opened it.

“It’s blank, no wait there’s something in the back” Sure enough, in the back of the black books was a note that looked like it had been scribbled in red sharpie and bled through several pages.

“What do you wish for?” Mars read the message aloud

“Ouch!” Martin yelped and dropped the book “Paper-cut”

“Where do you keep your band-aids?”

“Bathroom cupboard” Martin said, walking to the kitchen sink he ran his bleeding finger under cold water to clean the cut.

“You only have these giant ones” Mars had returned from the bathroom holding a box of extra large band-aids “Do you have scissors? I can cut one of these into thirds and I think that would be the right size”

Martin pointed at a pair of scissors on the counter and Mars got to work. Before long Martin’s paper-cut was clean and bandaged and both men had forgotten completely about the little black book lying on the floor.

“We should probably head out if we’re going to catch the 3:30 bus, do you have all your stuff?”

Martin patted his pockets “Keys, wallet, phone, I’ll get my jacket and boots on and we can head out”

…

The bus was cold, not as cold as the open winter air, but cold enough to make you shiver. Mars didn’t like to bundle up, he was the kind of guy to wear jeans year round, and if it weren’t for his aesthetic Martin was sure that he’d be one of those white boys who wore basketball shorts and flip-flops in the winter, but it was cold enough that even Mars had on a winter jacket, second-hand and covered in patches, but it made Martin a little less worried that his best friend was going to freeze to death.

“You should get like ear muffs or something since you refuse to wear a hat, how are your ears not freezing?” Martin asked

“That would look stupid, I’m not an eighty year old woman”

“They would not” Martin argued, being someone who regularly wore ear muffs in the winter “You could pretend they were headphones or something”

Mars just rolled his eyes “You’re such a dork”

…

The cafe was small, but had that local charm that drew in lots of regulars. The perfect place to have long conversations and drink overpriced hot beverages.

“I know I shouldn’t complain, but don’t you think it’s a bit ridiculous to charge two dollars for a one teabag in hot water?” Martin said in hushed tones once they were settled in at their regular table at the back of the cafe. “You can get a box of 20 for about the same price”

“You say that every time, and yet you keep insisting we come back here”

“I like it here”

“So is it, or is it not worth the two dollars?”

“It’s worth it… Sometimes I wish I was rich so I could open a cafe like this and sell drinks for really cheap”

And then there was that familiar phrase, spilling without thought from Mars’ mouth “Oh come on, eat the rich”

“Yeah I wish for that too” Martin said with a laugh “I think there is a difference though between having a high income and being rich though. I feel like it would be great to have a really high income and make the world a nicer place you know?” There was a notification sound and Martin checked his phone absentmindedly, and in seconds Mars watched as his eyes went wide. “Um, I don’t know if this is like a scam or something but my bank just alerted me that someone just deposited $20,000 into my account”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“You should call your bank”

Martin hated phone calls, but sometimes all it takes to get over that hatred is the incentive of $20,000, “Hi, um, this is Martin Rew, I’m calling about a deposit someone made in my account?” Five minutes on the phone and Martin learned that it was a legitimate deposit, that the bank called an ‘anonymous gift’

“What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea… I guess I have $20,000 now?”

“That isn’t that much if you think about it”

“It’s almost a full year of rent though, maybe I can finally try to save up some money and pay off some of my student loans”

There was a notification sound. Martin checked his phone. “No way. No way!”

“What now?”

Martin turned his phone for Mars to see another $20,000 deposit in his account.

“What is going on?”

“I have no idea”

Mars stared at his own phone “Have you seen these headlines?” he turned his own phone to show Martin a breaking news story about some Billionaire CEO getting mauled and eaten by his own pet bear.

“He had a pet bear?”

“Is that your takeaway from that?” Mars almost laughed

There was another notification sound. “I’m kind of starting to freak out here” Martin said “Another $20,000, every ten minutes”

“Jesus Christ” But Mars wasn’t paying attention to Martin, he was looking at his phone, reading another headline about another Billionaire dying a strange death “A shark? Are you kidding me?”

“You know what, let’s get an Uber” Martin said, he got up, putting on his coat, dragging Mars with him, he emptied all the cash in his wallet into the tip jar and they headed back to Martin’s apartment.

…

By the time they got back to Martin’s place he was $100,000 richer than when he’d left, and there were four dead Billionaires that had one way or another, been eaten…

“It’s every ten minutes, like exactly” Another notification sound “See?”

“Oh ew, swallowed by a snake. That does not seem like a fun way to go”

Their eyes were locked to their phones for hours, they turned on the TV to hear snippets of the entire world freaking out, in 24 hours Martin was nearly $3,000,000 richer, and there were almost 150 people dead. From fish, to wolves, to bugs, to birds, to cannibals, they were all eaten by something. As Martin quickly climbed the financial ladder, and those at the top were quickly dying off he and the rest of the world began to slowly realize what was happening. The richest of the rich were dying off at an alarming rate, slowly they became self aware and began to get rid of their money as quickly as possible, dumping it on charities or spending it on other people. Soon Martin realized that he was quickly approaching the threshold which by the rules of the game of his own creation he would be eaten alive. The dull ache in his stomach became sharp anxiety and pain as his mind was slowly eaten away by worry. He spent his money on everything he could think of, pouring it out to local communities and supporting every cause he could think of. He had a set income of $20,000 every ten minutes, so he knew if he gave away the same amount as he got then he would be able to fend off the inevitable.

But through all this time, he had completely forgotten about the little black book that had asked him what he wished for. It sat on the carpet behind his couch, drops of blood staining the pages. “What do you wish for?” it had asked.

“Not this” Martin replied.

THE END