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The Disgruntled Soul

"To hell with school!" Bill said to his parents.

"You don't know what you're saying," answered his mother. "A good education will give you a good job. Or do you want to spend the rest of your life as a laborer?" His father had already given up for some time now on driving the point home.

"No, I'll just become a pimp!" At this his mother threw her arms into the air to express her hopelessness. She knew he was not serious, but his ridicule really hurt.

"Besides, I can always join a union as a laborer. They pay well." Bill was sixteen years old and fast on his way to becoming a high-school dropout. He just did not do a thing for school. All he did was building up his condition through various sports. His teachers had also stopped warning him. It did not take long, to nobody's surprise, that he left school. He did several jobs in succession, but he had difficulty to hold onto them. In the meantime he ate and slept at home. His parents did not know what to do with him.

Then one day Bill, when he was seventeen, heard over the radio that a local priest had been arrested for sexual delicts with children. This was a good occasion to stop going to church. That evening at the dinner table he said: "To hell with priests, pastors, churches and what have you! They're all a bunch of hypocrites. From now on I will not go to church anymore with you."

"You're nothing but a spoiled little brat," his father blurted out.

"Yes and who spoiled me?" retorted Bill and slamming the door, he went up to his room. His father lifted his arms in despair.

"What is going to become of our son?" sighed his mother to nobody in particular.

"Maybe he'll become a pimp after all," said his father with sarcasm.

"Don't say such things, please. I have the creeps already all over me," observed his younger sister.

When Bill was eighteen he had found a steady job, because now he did his best. His father said that he had to contribute to the household costs.

"The heck with home then, I'm not going to pay a dime! I know a one room apartment that will cost me less." said Bill impulsively.

"Young man, you had better show some respect to your parents. We worked hard for you from before the day you were born!" his father said angrily.

"Or else?" answered Bill simply. His father got up and hit him in the face. Bill was stunned. Then, saying nothing, he packed his suitcase and left home never to return. That week he slept with a friend and got his one room apartment ready.

At twenty-five Bill had grown tired of his boss. 'To hell with all bosses,' he said to himself. He had saved some money and started selling insurance. He read just about every book on positive thinking. He also read a book on body language. He read it tens of times till he could read potential customers like a book. He worked hard and saved up lots of money. His superiors praised him all the time, but told him to enjoy life; to buy a sports car and a nice house or apartment. They said this, because they were afraid they would lose him if he saved up too much money. Bill answered them that, if he came to a house with an expensive car, he might not sell as much.

When he was twenty-seven he had already had many an affair. But now he found a girl he wanted to shack up with. But after a year he threw her out, saying to her: "To hell with you and with all women for that matter!" The girl left very sadly, for she had done her very best to make the relationship work. 'I'll just go to the whores,' muttered Bill in himself.

At thirty-two Bill had gathered enough money to buy a franchise. He had grown increasingly disgusted with door to door sales and companies that sent him away empty handed. So he said: "To blazes with door to door sales!" Bill proved to be a good businessman. His items were sold over the counter like hot dogs. He continued to organize well and at thirty-eight he owned several franchises. But he got increasingly angry about his employees and the customers as well. So he said: "The heck with them all, I'll sell everything now at the top of my sales and start something else!"

With new courage and acumen he begins studying the stock market. By this time he is forty-five. After observing the markets for a long time he cautiously starts speculating. Not long after he gains far more than he loses. "Luck is with me!" he said to a business friend. They go wining and dining in a nightclub to celebrate his first successes. They really make it a wild, very wild night. As they step in the taxi cab-for they had drunk way too much to drive themselves-Bill said to his friend: "Man, I hope I can repeat this kind of thing still many a time."

"Yes and thanks for paying for it all," answered his friend.

"No thanks, man. It was my pleasure.

Bill's fortune kept rising and rising. He rubbed shoulders with governors, congressmen and other well-known people. But after a while-you guessed it-he grew bored with it all. He decided to stop speculating and retire a multimillionaire. "To hell with stocks and bonds! To hell with the whole kitten caboodle! To hell with the whole world!"

Bill walked on the wild side of life. No lane was too fast for him. He became a real charmeur, always having young women around him. He picked out the young ones, because most of them were not yet so disappointed in life. "Oh, for those foxy babes! They give me so much pleasure!" He drove around with them in his Mercedes. He took them on pleasure trips on his yacht. And made love to them in his mansion.

But at fifty-two his physician broke the news to him-he had cancer. At first it did not sink in.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Burthow, but you have cancer."

"Oh, my- Is there nothin' that can be done?"

"I'll send you to a specialist."

"O.K. May God have mercy on me!"

"Amen to that," answered the doctor.

But the specialist, after extensive tests, said he had cancer of the liver. He had only a very short time to live. With a broken heart Bill went home that day. His life of pleasure had crumbled in a second. The next day he went to his notary to have his final will drawn up. He left a lot of money to his closest female companions, some for charity and most to his favorite girlfriend, eine üppige Blondine.

He threw a last party for his friends. They did not know what to say to him. So they said nothing. They danced, laughed and drank all through the night. When they took leave, they just clasped his hands.

On his death bed he called for his favorite girl, the one with the long blond hair and voluptuous breasts. He said to her: "I want this world! I desire this world! Could I only but sign for another ten years!" She said nothing, but a tear did fall from her eye. She took him into her arms. And so he died, in deep agony of soul.


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