Spend It Wisely

Spend It Wisely

“How would you like $20,000?”

The homeless man threw his head back and laughed.

“Sure thing buddy.”

The three young men who had approached him now looked at each other, confused.

“No, we’re serious,” the one nearest him said. “We’re doing a film project. We want to document the effect money has on people. In fact, we’re prepared to give you it to you right now,” he said, casually pulling out a large wad of bills.

The man eyed them up. They looked genuine.

“And all you need to do is let us follow you around and film you. That’s it.”

A dubious scowl creased the man’s dirty face. Were these punks serious? The money looked real, but Rudy had people pull his chain before. And this didn’t seem nearly as far-fetched as the junkie who had stolen his shoes and claimed he was the long-lost Prince of Norway.

“So I agree to be part of your little film, and I get $20,000?” he asked. “I can do whatever I want with it? I don’t need to give it back?”

“That’s right!” The cameraman, boom operator, and who Rudy assumed was the director all smiled at the mutual understanding. The one speaking to him pulled out a giant wad of money from out of nowhere and held it out. Once Rudy took it, a glimmer of hope filled his pale blue eyes, a look that everyone who passed by the despondent man had assumed gone out long ago.

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. I mean, everyone always wishes for something like this to happen to them, but when it does...” Rudy started to cry. “Thank you.”

Rudy wasn’t entirely sure what to do at first, but if the money in his hand was an opportunity to be a new man, than he best look the part. He didn’t want some cheap buzz cut, no. If a haircut was to be the first thing he was to spend money on, Rudy was going to splurge. The men’s barber shop he went into wasn’t just a place to get one’s hair cut, it was practically a spa. The woman behind the counter stood up, prepared to ask Rudy to leave until she saw the bills in his hand and the grin on his face. His lingering stench almost made the woman change her mind, but money talked, and she hoped the top-shelf shampoos and conditioners might alleviate some of the smell. Rudy couldn’t believe how good the essential oils and massaging fingers felt against his scalp that hadn’t been properly cleaned in so long. He was already starting to feel like a new person.

While homeless, Rudy preferred to fly under the radar. With the exception of human kindness that would see a small chunk of change plunked into his dented tin can or perhaps a hot meal pass his way, he didn’t want to be a bother to the public and even less so to the police who would shoo him away on days where they felt like it. They didn’t recognize the well-dressed man who emerged from the men’s clothing store after having bought some new thread, let alone give him a second glance. Whereas Rudy hated the pitiful looks he would get when people walked by him before, now he revelled in the attention he was starting to receive. The revived man had a spark back in his life which he wanted to fan into a raging fire to feel the warmth wash over him.

It wasn’t long before everyone learned of Rudy’s unexpected wealth. Word travelled fast on the street, especially between those who walked, crawled, staggered, and lived upon the cold asphalt. It was inevitable to make some sort of connection of camaraderie, lest one suffer poverty alone. Once Rudy’s homeless buddies learned of his change of situation, they were thrilled for him. One of their own had been dragged out of the ditches and placed onto a golden pedestal. They wanted to see if clothes really did make the man. And if they did, Rudy wasn’t going to need those dingy trousers anymore when he was now strutting around the city in a pair of designer Levi’s. Rudy was glad to be rid of his ancient relics and gladly gave them to his fellow man whose own pants were in even worse condition. Once Rudy accept that he should indeed look like a decent human being, he realized he should also eat like one.

Gone were the days of digging through dumpsters and rifling through soggy paper bags to be “treated” with half-eaten hamburgers and fries soggy from sitting in puddles of ketchup. Those were replaced with steak and lobster dinners. Once Rudy saw how big the portions were, he became unsure whether he could eat everything on those massive plates by himself. It seemed almost selfish, especially with his hungry entourage staring inside the restaurant from the nearby window. These were the same folks he had shared his dumpster meals with before. So Rudy invited them in to sit next to him and to order whatever they wanted. Share the wealth, share the food! As they said, rising tides raised all ships.

Once he had eaten his fill and then some, Rudy started to think about where he would stay for the night. $20,000 obviously wasn’t enough buy a house, but he could rent a hotel room. He would consider something more long term later. When he left the restaurant, the same people he had just fed continued to follow him like a gaggle of lost puppies. He couldn’t very well leave his friends in the cold when night time came.

Instead of a single room, Rudy rented one with double beds and a cot which his company was ecstatic over. Some of them were happy enough just to sleep on the warm carpeted floor. They revelled in their new accommodations, taking advantage of it to shower, shave, watch TV, turn on the heat, and use all the other perks now available to them. Rudy got a little worried when room service suddenly showed up, but why not? He’d never had it before himself. It wasn’t just a few bottles of wine they were ordering, they were ringing in a celebration, a toast to one of their own being pulled out of the gutter and given a new lease on life.

As the days passed, those cheers carried on, even after the group of men were evicted from the hotel room for enjoying themselves a bit overzealously. Rudy acquiesced to their removal, but cursed the hotel staff underneath his breath once they left.

“Pft, they just don’t get it, right boys?” he yelled as they swayed their way to the next available hotel. They wanted to ride that high as long as they could. Life was a fleeting thing. With a fresh bottle of liquor sloshing around their guts after their most recent and lavish of dinners, Rudy didn’t have a hard time saying no when one of his companions asked for a few bills to buy some drugs. Just another way to spread the wealth, right? The dishevelled young man on the street rubbing his arm needed to eat too, didn’t he? And the ladies of the night who smiled out Rudy so lasciviously now, they just wanted in on the fun. Why shouldn’t everyone experience the joys of unexpected wealth?

Rudy wasn’t naïve to think his unbelievable boon would last forever. Whenever someone asked if he thought of investing his money or what he would do when it ran out, Rudy would laugh and say something about how he wanted to enjoy the things in life that he had been denied for so long. Why settle for scraps when someone opened up the velvet rope to the front of the buffet? On occasion, that meant a literal buffet. And why not? There were no strings attached. It had been so long since Rudy had any kind of wealth. At first he was worried about drowning in a sea of choice, but now he drank in the first suggestions that came to his mind, whether they were his own or that of the people who surrounded him. He turned a blind eye to the shrinking stack of bills, avoiding the thought of scarcity. It meant accepting the reality that he would have to go back to the same flattened piece of cardboard on the same street corner where the three film makers had found him.

Rudy was surprised at how quiet they had all been during his financial binge. True to their word, they never attempted to dissuade him from how he spent his money, or even how others spent it. They had said nothing when Rudy snapped at a waitress for refusing his gang more alcohol at the five-star restaurant they invaded; no one intervened when Rudy brought the crack pipe to his lips; and they definitely hadn’t stopped the others from nicking the remainder of the bills in Rudy’s pocket when he passed out on the same street corner he used to call home. True to what the trio had said, they merely observed the rise and fall of the poor man who experienced a sudden injection of wealth into his life, as though a wish had been surreptitiously granted.

When one of the film makers finally put his fingers next to Rudy’s throat in the early hours of a cold morning, they felt no sign of life. 97 hours had passed since they first met him to the when they walked away, saying nothing.

Around the corner, the three men did not pull out a phone to call emergency services or anything of the like. In fact, they did nothing that could be deemed normal by any sense of the word. The large black camera that one of them had carried around effortlessly began to melt away in the same manner as the man himself. His partners started to exhibit the same wispy melting, starting with their clothes and then their skin, until the three of them were nothing but puffs of colored smoke that merged back into a single, blue-skinned being.

An arm covered in ornate golden bangles reached into the interior pocket of an ancient leather vest and pulled out a small black notebook. With a snap of his fingers, his other hand produced a colorful quill pen which scratched out the latest name written on the aged pages.

“That’s another one taken care of,” said the genie, satisfactorily closing the book. “I’ll never understand why humans continue to be obsessed with money. It doesn’t matter which way they get it, they never seem to spend it wisely. Oh well. Onto the next one!”