They say you don’t take your money with you to the grave.
They’re wrong.
Imagine Sonny’s relief, after seeing the grinning bank teller at the entrance to heaven, making him sign a form and handing him a credit card.
Sonny has never in his life seen a smile so wide. A tad more and PLUCK, the teller’s cheeks will tear.
Outside the terminal, surrounded by evergreen hills and clouds made of cotton candy, awaited camels who went through the eye of the needle, magical buses, and one limousine. Sonny approached the limousine, instinctively. The driver, smiling the same smile as the teller’s, explained to Sonny: new residents are taken for a tour around heaven, until they find a property they can afford. He swiped the card, and they went on their way.
Sonny made his first money at eleven. When all the other kids had started lemonade stands on the front yard, Sonny realized very quickly how this world works, he leased a forest plot from the government, deforested it and planted a lemon orchard. The neighbors from across the street, Lil’ Morey and Buddy, had manned the pick, squeeze and sales positions, Sonny paid well and took care of their pensions.
Father had taught Sonny since the moment he started to walk – all men are standing in the very same queue; you either lag behind or sell the tickets. As a…
The story continues in the full book. You can buy it, or ask for a discounted or free copy. Forgive the marketing trick.
