"No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?"

--Donald Miller

You Gotta Fight For What You Want (Adventures With Rabies)

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Today, I'm walking down an alleyway on my way to class because, as usual, I'm late. Then, I happened to spot my buddy Tempest next to a dumpster holding a yardstick and a pack of chewing gum. She's looking down at a metal grate on the ground which covers a sewer underneath.

"Whatcha doing Temp?" I greet Tempest but she's got a look of sheer determination on her face.
"Pooks, I'm gonna be rich! I just gotta find a way to get those quarters out!" She then points through the grate to show me two shiny quarters teasing us a few feet underneath us.

At this time, History of Modern Latin America has been forgotten. There's a chance of us getting rich here and I'm talking Washingtons here.

We start working with the drive of diamond miners as we lower the yardstick with a giant wad of citrus gum stuck on the end into the sewer but each time we come up empty: our hands are too big to fit through the holes and we're only a few inches too short. "A stick! A stick! Get me a stick!" I run to try and find a good stick to lengthened our yardstick. The first one is too thick to fit through the holes so I try to find another.

At this time, some of the administrators of my university enter the alley, finished with a meeting. They see us cheering and groaning as we get closer and closer to our prize and shake their heads at the street urchins who will do so much to get a few cents. "Oh the lengths some of those kids will go to pocket a few cents," is what I'm sure they were all thinking at the moment. They just don't understand.

It's at this time when I realize that I have a class I'm supposed to be sitting in right now. I make Tempest promise me to update me on her status and head towards caudillos and socialist parties.

About ten minutes later, I receive a text from Temp:
"Found a thinner stick and taped it [onto the yardstick]...when I went for the second one, a raccoon popped its head and stared me down."

Unfortunately, our get rich quick days were ended by the master bandit himself. And you wondered were all the change thrown into fountains went.

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