Not A Single Silver Threepence

i’m not wealthy / just a pretty average retired american with a few dollars stashed away to keep me off the streets and on the internet //

and i won’t be around forever at least in the manor i am now / i have no choice about the time and method of my exit //

and although i’m not happy about it / i have grown to accept the inevitable //

but there is a high probability that my lovely young Wife will survive me / she is after all 15 years my junior / and (very much) female which adds to her statistical lottery //

so at some point / there is a likelihood that she will be the beneficiary of the remains of my modest savings and estate such as it is //

and as i have said previously / i’m not happy about it / but i have grown to accept the inevitable //

well let me clarify / i am happy that she will be provided for / and i have grown to accept that i can’t take it with me //

but if i allow myself to extend my speculation / the following situations may possibly come to pass:

  • my loving attractive and unconsciously provocative young Wife is seduced by some smarmy dude and they (he) proceed to live it up in what was formerly my home and bed on the fruits of my hard earned life long labors //
  • my loving generous and sometimes unsuspecting young Wife contributes to the support of her daughters / who in turn through no fault of their own / end up caring for their reprehensible sociopath father / thereby ultimately making him a de facto beneficiary of my previously described material spoils //

okay / the former is bad / bad bad bad / although were i to be entirely honest / the idea of Wife getting pounded daily by some young dude is oddly satisfying //

but the latter is simply unacceptable // un ex septa bull //

worse / they are only (two) of countless other dark stars in the sky that could just as easily come to pass //

oh woe //

i suppose i could find a cheap barrister and file papers to leave everything to the salvation army //

or better still / spend every last thin silver threepence right this minute on any and every debauchery for which i have ever lusted //

um / but then what do i do should my path wind on for another 40 years?/ what then would become of me?//

shit happens //

how does the poem go?//

don’t worry ’bout the small stuff //

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