By: Samwell Rockhouse There comes a time in a man’s life where he has to make money and live off that money to support himself, and someday, even a family. Life doesn’t offer money and it’s never going to give free hand outs but what it will do is always give us the chance to dream. The chance to open up our minds and explore the inner most depths of our means to achieve a reasonable cash flow or just so much money everyone wants to throw rocks at you. Money is like soap, it’s highly bubbly once wet. Wait, let me rephrase. Money is like money and it will never be like anything else. We all at one time have pondered the question, “What would I do if I had so and so amount of dollars?” and the answer is so and so doesn’t buy you much, just a philosophical trip back to Brahms. Well, what about 50,000 dollars? That seems like a good place to start. And so here I will tell you what I would do with that hefty amount of dollars.
If I had 50,000 dollars, I’d first drive to my bank and make sure this money isn’t drug dealing money or needed to help out some foreign refugee camp in Ireland. After that I’d load it up in my truck and drive to the airport. The first thing I’d use it on is putting bling in the security station at the Sky Harbor Airport. I’m talking totally decked out with diamonds and rubies and then buy the Transportation Security Administration or TSA all brand new pairs of basketball shoes. After that, I’d buy a suit, a nice one. One that screams, “I just bought four limousines for the price of one. Care to hook a brother up?” I don’t know about you, but I deeply desire a suit for guest appearances at school and doing my night shopping at Safe Way. I’m all about driving slow in a fast car, dining and dashing but in the end paying through a top hat, and sipping on root beer while strapped to the top of a stealth bomber. I’d also have to pay extra to make karaoke night change from Wednesday to Saturday, because I am king of karaoke and I got a voice like a Mafia don. I’d also have to pay to make a music video to the whole Ben-Hur movie with the help of Miles Davis, and if Miles Davis is simply not able to be there, Snoop Dog. After that, I wouldn’t want to really do much for a couple days. I’d put it in a safe place in my kitchen and watch reality TV with my dog Rocky. I’d have a moment where I’d move in slow motion and make it rain in my house and pour champagne in my dog’s bowl then watch TV again. After a few days of laying low and making it rain and picking it back up to make it rain yet again, I’d go to California and drop a huge tarp over the foothills of Los Angeles with big black words saying, “You have 24 hours to evacuate the premises” then when everyone left, I’d put a chaise lounge right in the middle of city, put on my shades and drink a lemonade. After that, I’d be pretty tan and looking good and go someplace where I blended in better. I’d sit in a Mack truck that was tied to an airplane and go to Italy. When I landed I’d go to Lake Como and ask if I can take a ride on someone’s boat in Italian that I learned from buying Rosetta Stone. Unfortunately, I’d probably be really stoned by this point and wanting to get a room so I can sit in a tub. After that, I’d go downstairs and pay the receptionist to entertain me with funny faces and open up my wine bottles with his eyelids. Soon, I’d have to go back home but that’s where you guys are in for a little bit of a twist because I actually just was knighted by Queen Elizabeth the II and am going to London, compliments of the royal family. While walking to the embassy, I’d pet an endangered species and pay highly to do so. I don’t know if I’d slip a fiver in the queen’s cleavage or not but I was thinking about that as I walked down the richly elegant hallway in my tennis shoes and Johnny Cash t-shirt. After this I’d probably buy some mouth rinse because of all the shitty English food I put on my highly lucid tongue. Then I’d pay a couple dollars to take a taxi down the street because I accidently twisted my ankle walking out of the embassy. I’d then pay copious amounts of dollar juice for sending Elton John to Guantanamo Bay to sing for anyone who put their hand up. Then he’d have a tiny statue of himself stating he came, he saw, he conquered. After that, I’d pretty much just eat a lot of gushers and candy from the candy store until I got a phone call to hear that my car was impounded. Once I got to the impound, I’d tell the guy to honk the horn and see if it worked. Somehow after that, I’d have surgery where all of my spinal fluid got copyrighted and turned into a trademark. Whatever was left, I’d charge it to my room.