I was a homeless person with a sleeping bag rolled-up in Ken Kesey's old bus. That was back during the Reagan Holocaust. You couldn't find a job to save your soul. I'd pick strawberries with the field workers for pin money. I had a small bank account with a few dollars in it. Then, the bank made a mistake. I didn't touch that money for years as I waited for the bank to realize their mistake and take it back. But they never did. Not even after the statute of limitations ran out. It made me feel good, like I really stuck it to the man! Especially in times like these, when they want to cheat their customers in every possible way to insure their customary profits. So, when they rip me off for a few dollars, I think of the bank that unwittingly saved my life during the hard times, and everything is O.K. I have a safe full of cash, gold ingots, and jewelry. I watched over that wealth carefully, and I'm going to make it. I love you guys.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblence to people living, or dead is purely coincidental. The lack of proper punctuation is a newsvine trademark. Yelling, criticism of unregulated capitalist criminals, and punctuation is forbidden on this website.