"I hate these."

He had remarked snidely to his friend.

"What? These paintings?"

"Yeah, who wants to get themselves painted anyhow?"

With a clear hint of jealousy, the boy bellowed about his contempt for the rich, slamming them at every chance he could, criticizing their ways of life, their philosophies and outright opposing any sort of politic that would allow for such a social class to exist.

"Well, I like them. They remind me of, you know, like the Victorian Era or something. It's not cause of their wealth that they had these made, it's a family thing, you know? His son will have one too."

"Well his son deserves to be put up on a stake for what his family is doing to the world, do you have any idea the gap between them and us?"

"Well, I would imagine it to be a fairly large one, seeing as how I can't really imagine it."

The other boy remarked, with a clear hint of admiration in his voice. The two would often quarrel about such petty things, not so much out of anger, but more of boredom.

"Hey, you two, what business have you got here? Clear out, then if you've got none."

A security guard had noticed the boys staring at portraits in an upscale midtown Manhattan office building of the CEOs and their lineage. They left without saying a word, and proceeded to enjoy a healthy conversation at the nearest McDonalds.


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Baron Rowe III (joined over 11 years ago)

whatever, man.

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