Sometimes, I just wish that I would open the website to my bank account one day and find that there was an extra million dollars sitting happily in my balance.
Just once. I don't think that's unreasonable, do you?
You never know. There could be some eccentric billionaire out there who, just to pass the time, works part-time as a bank teller. He could be an older man, grandpa age, and what frizzy white hair he has left could like to stick up around the crown of his head. He might also have a thing for sweater vests that his aunt used to knit for him.
Actually, I think he's starting to remind me of my college physics professor. The one who once told me that he was better at dating rocks than women. He was a really, really nice guy.
So this fictional billionaire, whose name could only be Cornelius Figgs, has this little quirky habit: when things at the bank are slow, he likes to pick a random twenty-four-year-old and stuff a million dollars in her bank account. Then he laughs to himself in a way that only a cute, eccentric old man can. And then he has to take a nap.
Why do I want a million dollars, you ask? Well, there are a thousand things I could do with it. The first thing I would do is buy a house and a car. They don't have to be too spiffy, just mine. Then, who knows what I'd do with the rest. I've said before that I'd probably give most of it away. This week, I was thinking that I might just open a bakery as well.
This decision was precipitated by the week I spent house sitting for my aunt and uncle, who now own a small coffee shop. While I was working for them, they let me get anything I wanted out of their shop for free. I could really get used to that, you know? Pastries, doughnuts, cupcakes, cookies, all baked by an expert who has recipes so good that when the State Department gets a taste, they decide to send some of my baked goods to Iran, causing a chain reaction that eventually leads to world peace.
Yup, I'm pretty sure that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad would love my hypothetical pastries.
Some days, I'd help in the kitchen, my face coated in flour in a way that makes me ten times as adorable. Other days, I'd be at the counter, receiving praise, adoration, and marriage proposals from people as they order. Sometimes, I'd just take a scone and some hot chocolate into the corner and write a story inspired by my patrons.
Yeah, I think I'd like that.
So, Gentle Reader, what would you do with one million dollars, should good old Cornelius decide to make a contribution to your bank account? Would you go into the movie business? Go to college forever? Buy a boat and sail all over the world?* Move next to the Jonas Brothers?** Bribe someone to leave politics?*** Type a bunch of sentences with asterisks?****
Please leave your fantasies in the comments section. And if you happen to see Cornelius, please point him in my direction.
Regards, best wishes, and a healthily wild imagination,
*Jonathan, if you're reading this, sorry for stealing your fantasy. It's a really cool one.
**You know who you are. I, for one, wouldn't.
***If I had to choose, I'd pick Nancy Pelosi. She scares me. She's pretty rich, though, so I don't think a million would be enough!
****Oh wait, that's free. HA!