A man walks into an airport with a bag of money.
The people around him look suspicious. Why would a man walk into an airport with a bag of money? He’d only do that if he was a crazy man with a bag of money. And crazy men were dangerous. Especially in airports.
It didn’t take long before security also took notice of the man with the bag of money and three very tall and very muscular men walked closely behind him. Not yet ready to jump on him and pummel his head in, but not ready to let him walk alone through the terminal with a bag of money.
The man kept peering over his shoulder as if he was afraid someone might catch on to what he was doing and continued to act as though he wasn’t in the middle of a busy public place carrying a sack of money.
Finally, as he reached international departures, he stopped and slung the bag down from his shoulder on to the floor.
By now he had a following of interested travellers wondering what this man planned to do with his bag of money.
The man then calmly took of his long trench coat, drawing the attention of security who put their hands on their batons. But the man just laid it down beside the bag of money and opened the sack up wide.
Without warning he started yelling “Take my money” while energetically shaking his head and the long yellow hair that remained on it.
“Take my money, take my money, take my money!” he yelled over and over again to the gathered crowd.
For a good number of seconds nobody took heed, and the man showered bills and coins over the terminal floor.
Then one man had had enough. “I’ll take your damn money, fool,” he said before dropping to his knees to collect as much money as he could before anyone else had the mind to do the same.
For two seconds he was on his own, scraping money and moving closer to the man-money-fountain.
Then the rest of the people launched themselves to the floor, fighting one another for their piece of the crazy man’s money.
“My father wrestled elephants for this money! He won many matches and took husks for payment! Take my blood money, take my blood money!”
The bizarre revelation didn’t deter the masses from consuming the inheritance money. Animals died every day they reasoned and elephants were animals. Who were they to judge the right or wrong way for an elephant to die?
“He used the elephant tusks to kill more animals! He hated animals so much and made money off of cock and dog fighting rings!” he added, tears streaming down his face as he neared the bottom of the sack of money.
Seeing how close he was to nearing the end of the bag, the crowd picked up their frenzied feeding so much that his cries were drowned out my the fighting.
Not that they would have cared. Dogs fought all the time and the majority of them ate chicken.
“And then he would spend the money he earned off the vicious fighting to fuel his drug habit!”
People had stopped listening entirely and as the bag of money was now empty, they had started to pick through the man’s pockets, assuming he didn’t want that money either.
As the final dime was picked from a back pocket, the crowd began to disperse, money stowed away wherever they could find room.
The man looked distraught. Evidently he had planned to sermonize and demonize his father. He thought the money would go further. But as he prepared to tell the crowd he had expected to be gathered that his father was going to hell, he was nudged aside by a custodial engineer.
“You dropped this,” the engineer said to the man, holding up a shiny dime.
The man took the dime, put it in his money sack and walked alone out of the airport