When a Rich Man met a Poor Man...

One fine summer’s day, early in the morning, a Poor Man was walking to work. Now this man lived in a run-down house in one of the Deprived Zones that encircle the Bustling And Golden Financial District of Anyplace, which is called The Anytown, and to get to his place of work (for he was employed as a cook at The Asylum For The Strange And Different) he had to cross The Thriving Hub Of Finance.
     So there he was, a Poor Man in Ragged Clothes, strolling along the affluent pathways of this wealthy area. As he walked, he whistled, for the sun was bright and the sky was blue and there was Happiness In His Soul.
     Coming in the opposite direction, walking towards the Poor Man, was a Rich Man. He was a trader in the new Financial Product that had taken Anywhere by storm in recent months, the HORFIOD (Highly Opaque and Risky Financial Instrument Of Death) and, as such, was a member of the families of The One Percent and lived, like the rest of his kind, in a Vast Mansion high in the hills outside Anyplace.
     Now today was not a good day for the Rich Man as he was particularly Weighed Down with the Troubles And Cares Of Wealth and was running frantically from business meeting to business meeting and he was not happy, not happy at all.
     He was somewhat affronted, then, to see the Poor Man. After all, here was this chap coming down the street towards him, smiling, whistling and obviously In Love With The World, yet from his Demeanor and Ragged Clothes he was equally obviously a Poor Man Of No Means And No Money. What right had he to be so offensively cheerful? What possible cause could he have to be so happy? Unacceptable! He determined that he would find out what was going on with this strange fellow, this insolent Poor Person
     With this thought upon his mind and being by now in a Very Bad Mood, the Rich Man, upon drawing level with the Poor Man said, “You, Poor Man, stop!”
     And the Poor Man stopped, looked the Rich Man in the eye and, smiling in an infuriatingly pleasant way replied, “of course, sir, how may I help you?”
     “Well, I’ll come straight to the point. I found your obvious happiness an effrontery and most annoying and I wish you immediately to cease smiling and stop whistling. You have no right to be happy, I can tell simply from looking at you that you’re a Man Without Money And Means and as such your Position In Life should be one of Abject Misery and I demand that you behave in a manner fitting and appropriate to your Miserable Station In Life”
     “But, sir,” replied the Poor Man, “respectful of your authority and all as I am, I have to beg to differ. You’re right, of course, that money is a constant worry but I have a roof over my head and food on the table and a job of work. I have a wife who I love very much and who loves me and I have two beautiful, healthy children who are the apple of my eye…these things are Jewels Beyond Price.”
     “Jewels Beyond Price! Hah! What balderdash! Why, my Fine Mansion has twenty bedrooms and the largest of these is bigger, I’ll wager, than the entire hovel in which you no doubt live.”
     “Then, sir, I’m sure you would win that bet for my home is humble indeed, but it is a happy home and that is enough for me”
     “Ah, you fool! My wife is a Former Model and beautiful beyond compare, the kind of woman you most assuredly could not afford! Your own wife, I’m sure, is some fat, frumpy old fishwife and a pain to the eye.”
     “But, sir, I love my wife as my life itself, as she does me. Every time I look at her I see the most beautiful woman in the world and that is more than enough for me.”
     “What an idiot you are Poor Person! Why my children have the best of everything, they want for nothing, what do your mewling brats have?”
     “Well, sir, it’d be true to say my children do not have as many…things…as yours but they are fed and clothed, loved and protected and encouraged in all they do and every night as I kiss them in their beds as they lay sleeping I see that they are smiling contentedly and that is certainly enough for me.”
     “Hah! What a pathetic Poor Fool you are, you understand nothing. I am a powerful and feared man, and what are you…I mean, look at you…who would ever fear you!”
     “No, sir, I am not feared, nor would I want to be, I am happier having the good friends I have who like me for being me, not because they fear me.”
     “Moron! Fool! Imbecile! Look, let me put this in simple terms that even someone as impoverished and brainless as yourself would understand. I have more than you and this time next year I will have even more than you and the year after that I will have more again and the next year I will have still more than you and so on and so on until I have everything and you have nothing! There, now what do you say to that you Scummy Peasant!?”
     “Sir, I can only say once again that I am blessed in what I do have, I do not like to waste my time worrying about what I do not have. Why would I want more when I already have enough?”
     “Harrumph!” Harrumphed the Rich Man and, concluding, in sheer frustration, that there was no reasoning with this insolent fool of a man, span on his heel and walked away, leaving the Poor Man to continue his journey.
     What a deluded idiot! Good grief! thought the Rich man. ‘Why would I want more,’ indeed! How stupid; after all, one always wants more, getting more is the point of everything. What kind of life can one have if one doesn’t have more? And yet…he could still hear that stubborn, insolent, stupid, happy Poor Man whistling as he walked away down the street. Happy? Nonsense! Love? Nonsense! Children? Nonsense! Happiness is money and then more money. Plain And Simple.
     But with that thought, something strange happened to the Rich Man. Maybe it happened because he was having a bad day, too much stress, too much to do, or maybe it happened because a passing Faerie observed the conversation between our two protagonists and offended, perhaps, by the arrogance and sheer rudeness of the Rich Man, decided to bestow upon him one of those Notoriously Double-Edged “Gifts” that Faeries are so fond of Bestowing...
     Whatever the cause, the Rich Man was suddenly struck by an intense bout of Insight: something which people of his class and wealth are normally Blissfully Free Of. He saw his life for what it was. His pretty, younger wife. Married not for love, but as a trophy. He didn’t love her. And she didn’t love him, not for a minute, his touch repulsed her. But she did love the money, the clothes, the parties, the house and the jewels. And as for the two children: they were far from being the apple of his eye. In fact he barely knew them, certainly didn’t love them: they were just something that had to be produced by a Man In His Position; to his wife, giving birth to them was part of the financial contract that was their marriage. Raised by nannies and governesses, his children were growing up Unloved And Unwanted and would become Troubled And Difficult Adults. And that big, beautiful mansion of his. Upon reflection it was big but not beautiful; rather, a cold, empty space devoid of meaning and feeling.
     All he had was money. Lots and lots of money. But money can’t share a joke or a confidence with you; it cannot be your friend. It cannot hold your hand, or kiss you or hold you near.
     With this Shock Of Insight the Rich Man suddenly felt very alone. He felt a sense of rising panic and anxiety, of sorrow and loss. He stopped walking. He felt hot and sick and dizzy and…and at that point his heart, weakened by years of Stress And Rich Living, decided to give up the struggle and Ceased To Beat.
 
     The Rich Man fell to the ground, aware of an Absence Of Motion in his chest and An Inability To Breathe. This was it, he was dying. But this could not be, for surely he was Too Rich To Die?
 
     And just before the Rich Man made the Final Journey from this world to the other, his Insight suddenly widened (to my mind this suggests the Rich Man had indeed been Equally Blessed And Cursed with the “gift” of Faerie-inspired Insight, but I suppose we could debate that point until the Trolls came home...) and he had a vision of the very inside of his Soul, and his last living feelings were ones of endless and deep despair. He saw his Soul for what it was: a vast, empty, barren desert in which there was not a living thing except a myriad rats, scuttling pointlessly and desperately back and forth in search of something they didn’t even know they were looking for, and across the thick, black fur of each of these rats was emblazoned, in blood red capital letters, the word GREED.
     At this point the Rich Man’s existence passed into the dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories which makes up so much of history.