Mr Short Cuts

Mr Short Cuts (a story)

Charles was the guy who wanted stuff, and wanted it NOW!. He didn’t want to have to work for it or wait for it to get it. Emotionally he had the patience of a toddler. The practicality of a small child.
So Charles would do things like steal to get the money for a lottery ticket, so he’d win and not have to work. EVER!
He’d hire himself out to his mom’s friends as their stud. They got a young guy on their arm, and they had sex with his fit body. In an hour, Charles made what most guys made in a week. And he’d buy more lottery tickets and go to the casino and spend it all.
That was Charles. Anything to make a quick buck so he could dream about the big bucks. He didn’t care if it was legal or not.
It wasn’t that he was lazy either. He ran for 10 miles everyday and power-lifted in competitions. His dad said to Charles that he wished Charles would put half that energy into keeping a job.
It got worse.
The crimes got bigger. He joined a gang, so he didn’t have to take all the risk himself. His only issue with that was that he had to share the reward.
When the lottery never panned out, he went to the casinos and played the one-armed-bandits. He didn’t win often, but when he did it usually made up for the money he spent at least.
He started looking for a sugar-momma. He got hired at the country club, which pleased his dad, till he found out why his son got the job. His mom was so humiliated by her son’s morals. They kicked him out of the house.
They couldn’t figure out what they’d done wrong.
He wasn’t technically a gold-digger, but the result would be the same. He wanted a woman as a purse, not a love.
But women with money are not stupid. They know that the cute boy who wants a woman his mom’s age usually aren’t that attracted to her. So they had a date or two with him, got their groove on, but aint no way!! he was getting into their houses, let alone becoming their husband.
So nothing was really working out for Charles. And he was losing his looks as he aged. It was taking longer to keep his physique at buff. And he was getting worried.
He needed to do something. Riskier.
So he planned a real crime. Something he could do alone that would bring him real money.
Charles bought a gun, he stole the gang’s drug money and drugs and sold it to the competition. He burned his bridges with them.
And he had to go on the run.
The money didn’t last long. So he had to start again.
But now he knew having real money could mean real fun. And he wanted more. Just more.
The only things that would stop Charles would be his death or getting caught. Going to prison. Like so many other Charles-types.
The road to short cuts is a cruel one. Money never lasts long and the risks are just too awful.
The only real way to get money is to learn how to do something the world needs and become excellent at it.
So the moral is: don’t be a Mr Short Cuts, like Charles.
His life is about to blow up.

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