‘All the decent mega-mansions are in really boring
neighborhoods’ said the sad billionaire with tears in his eyes.
‘Why can’t I just find a nice twenty bedroom plus place,
with more than one pool, a full sized cinema, a banquet room, tennis courts in
more than one surface, and a side pool house bigger than most upper
middle-class people could ever dream of owning, that I will personally use to store
all the art I own by household name known renaissance masters, that I don’t currently
feel like looking at, in a neighborhood with nice restaurants, theaters, bars
and a twenty four hour convenience store?’ He practically pleaded, now with
tears streaming down his face.
He then pulled himself together, dabbed his eyes dry with
hundred dollar bills, and went to sleep in a bed so big that both of his
teenage mistresses were able to find space beyond his reach.
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