Life is too short for boring stories

It was a night that probably did not promise much. Had he just said that the men were complaining about ignoring, even discrediting? At last I looked at him more closely, in his gray suit and leather shoes while my feet were gently splashing in the water. Then a few exuberant drops jumped on his shoes.
“Is the crocodile? They look so snappy,” I asked, rubbing eagerly on his shoes that would dry them.
“Cannot you be careful? Yes, crocodile. They cost a fortune!” he exclaimed.
“Themselves to blame. Why do you buy shoes that cost a fortune?” I said shoulder-shaking.
“Because it’s necessary. Finally, I have what to represent. Lord, if they would not pay me so well, I would have been up and gone long ago,” he said angrily.
“What do you have to represent? At the moment, you are portraying someone who is so concerned about the health of his shoes, as if they were a child who is dead. But I understand, you need the money to pay the ladies who sleep with you,” I remarked succinctly.
“Sorry, I do not have to pay for ladies. They are not hookers,” he replied angrily.
“I have not said, but who is wearing an expensive suit and shoes that look snappy and what looks, who is upset with ladies who want to be well executed, possibly even in the theater or in the opera. A small present is never wrong, of course, and you have to invest all that,” I said patiently.
“But all like money because you need it. You must also live on something,” he said.
“But I do not have to like it. I’ll explain it to you. I use toilet tissue because it’s handy and I’ve got used to it. But do I have to like it? No, the money brings only unrest into the world, and not the money in itself, but the place you give it. It fulfills its purpose, but you do not see it as an object of use, but you like it. You think you can buy something with it,” I said.
“And I can. The vacation, the house, the car, the suits, the pleasure, yes, I can buy it all,” he said gloomily.
“Can you buy the joy and happiness and friends and love and time?” I asked curiously.
“Of course not. But I have it anyway, if the financial basis fits,” he countered accordingly, because he did not understand it better.
“And you must manage and preserve the property. You have to work a lot so you have enough money to buy it, and if you have it, you have to work more to get the property, and if you do, you have no time for friends and joy and happiness and love that you cannot buy. You’re going to be slaves of what you’re buying, and that’s why you like the money because you’re dependent on it, like a hero addict from the next syringe. It’s always circling around your thoughts, causing you to sleep, giving you a stomach ulcer and broken relationships, and you have to be here even though you do not want it,” I said.
“That’s why it’s necessary that you sign this, and I’ll go right away,” he tried to scratch the curve.


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