by Michele Suzann
It was not a large sum of money but I needed it. I was attempting to be different, trying not to tell a story. You know, the one entitled Why I Need The Money? I had discovered that whether or not the story prompted its hearer to hand over dollars, it inevitably inspired a compulsion to transmit advice. But I had never told the story to learn how I might, in future, avoid having the story to tell; I told the story to get money. As the situation persisted, however, and in an attempt to change it without cash, I stopped telling the story. This on the advice of a hearer (I was beaten down; what can I say; I took it). The advice was: if you stop telling the story, it will cease to be true, ergo: you will not need the money. I had taken this advice to the payday lender, to the sale of still-treasured not to mention useful personal effects, to the second job, to the third job. Places you could go to, storyless.