moneybags

i have never hated anyone in my life, though of course i have resented many people for many things, and i don't like to hold grudges, but i'm not perfect, and i tend to do so anyway, until i eventually forget about why i am mad and resume talking to the person. or i just deal with my negative feelings toward someone simply and completely avoid them, delete them from my cell phone, walk the opposite way on the street. but money, oh money. if money were a person -- say a Steve, or a Jason -- i would fucking despise him. i would most definitely throw rotten eggs at his window and i would cough up all my phlegm and spit it all over his button-down, red-and-white-striped Express Men's shirt. i would coat his Jaguar in thick layers of vegetable shortening and Saran Wrap after scratching it with my key. i would make him buy me a beer at a bar and then "accidentally" pour it over his head. i would spread rumors about him, about how he makes everyone around him miserable, about how he's not even attractive -- way too thin -- about how he's been around the block more than once, if you know what i mean, about how one shouldn't even touch him with a 10-foot pole, considering all those diseases he's probably contracted from all those places he's been, all those people he's been with. about how he's always just trying to get into someone's pants, and he's not the relationship type -- always flitting among one person to another, always quick to leave. but still, i would say, it's just so curious that we all want him so badly. and how even when he hurts us, like he always does, he only leaves us wanting more.