“I’m afraid it’s fatal.” the doctor said.
“What, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” John’s vision slowly returned. A momentary blackout from the aneurism earlier that day. His body was still tingling.
His phone rang. It was the board of directors. He turned off the ringer.
“Those rats.” he thought. “I’m not going to sell my shares.”
“Like I said, you’re going to die (good riddance you fucking asshole).” the doctor coughed.
“What did you say?” John thought he heard the doctor say something under his breath.
“Take these.” He handed John a small box with pills inside, “Medicinol” was written on the side.
John left the office as the nurse walked in.
“Is that the guy that foreclosed on your office development?”
“The same. John Masshole.”
John got into his douche car and drove off down the boulevard. The top was open and the wind was blowing through his hair.
He had finally made it. A billionaire, he had taken over more businesses than he could count. Often, closing them or outsourcing them to the most exploited countries. Now he was given a few months to live.
“What the fuck?” he thought and slammed his hands against the wheel.
“It’s not fair!” He shouted as he drove by a homeless looking guy on the corner.
The guy was holding a sign, “The end is nigh!”
“Nigh? Who says nigh? No one talks like that!” John sped by annoyed he had to see someone begging in the wealthiest city in the world. “Well” he thought, “he isn’t wrong.”
John arrived at his office. “Well, you would need an upper-management level pay to rent in this city,” one man said at the meeting he had had with the city council earlier that day. They were complaining that no one could afford rent.
“Who’s going to stop me from charging whatever I want? You guys? I own you.” he had sneered. He laughed now. “I wasn’t supposed to say that part out loud but oh well! Everyone knows it. And now you suckers are going to pay whatever price I choose because I’ve made sure you have no choice.”
“Oh that’s my bartender!” he said out loud as he drove by some homeless tents. “Hey Suzy!” He waved at her and then gave her the finger. He laughed again. “I give her big enough tip at that four star restaurant that she has take it.”
John looked over at the ocean view that appeared over the next few hill. This was always the most beautiful part of his drive. He smiled… what a great view… then he frowned slightly.
“I’m going to die… I can’t die…”
He pulled out a small hand held device.
“Note to self: Get Robert to research all available medical advances. That doctor was useless but he’s just bitter I bought his building”
There has to be a way to keep this ride going.
“Sir, sit down. Sit down!” the nurse said.
John was on crawling on all fours howling like a dog.
“Was this one of the side effects? Did we know this would happen?” the science doctor asked the science nurse.
“It was mentioned something like this might happen.”
The nurse pulled out her keys and started shaking them. Another nurse splashed some water on his face.
“Can we give him a sedative?”
The doctor nodded.
The nurse pulled out a syringe and soon John hit the floor.
John awoke with a headache. As he gathered himself and got up he realized he was in his bed at home. The sun shown in through the veranda.
His headache started to slowly fade away.
He got up and looked out the window. What did they give him. He felt young again. What should he do with this day? A thought occurred, maybe, I can go for a walk through the path in the forest out back. Why hadn’t he thought to do that before?
As the day went on a whole slew of new thoughts passed through his mind.
Why was he endlessly pursuing money?
Why had he foreclosed on that guys dream house?
It seemed, he was realizing, that making money seemed to wire him to be satisfied by making money. And with that thought a great empty feeling filled his stomach. What an empty pursuit. I foreclosed on that guys dream for a buzz that lasted all of two seconds. I could have had the same buzz from a donut that I could work off in a jog.
Why wasn’t he spending more time in nature with nature?
Why wasn’t he building meaningful relationships?
Why didn’t he realize these things before? What had the doctors gave him? Medicinol? That’s doesn’t sound like a real thing.
Why have I been pursuing brief moments of feeling good. Then, he remembered a teacher from school mentioning careers and work as thing that was fulfilling.
Those things aren’t fulfilling. Creating things is fulfilling, living well is fulfilling, spending time with friends and family is fulfilling, personal and group and social accomplishments are fulfilling. So many things came to mind that he had to start writing them down. He pulled out his phone, then put it back in his pocket. No screens. Not for a everything. He remembered a kiosk not far from where he was.
He ran up to the kiosk where a man was selling newspapers.
John retorted, “A pencil and pad! Quick dickhead. I don’t have all day.”
The man frowned.
“But, actually, I do” he realized. Why did he call that man a name?
Please vote if you want part two. Or don’t vote.
