8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

Seamus

Seamus was an idiot.

His family had always been in the gold business, going back generations upon generations. They gave their lives to gold–acquiring (some would say “hoarding”) it, storing it in cast iron pots, and protecting it from all who would try to steal it. It’s what they did.

But Seamus thought he knew better. He decided the gold business was a “cockamamie” (his word) way to make a living. So the day he turned eighteen, he demanded his share of the family fortune, cashed it out, and set to work forging his own path.

Unfortunately, that path was a “sure thing” Seamus had heard of called tech stocks. He invested every last dime in them. And because he was an idiot, we’re not even talking the good ones. No, there were no Googles or Facebooks in his portfolio–just a bunch of Webvans and pets.coms, and faster than you can say “bubble economy”, he was flat busted.

He ended up working at the one and only place that’d hire him: The Olive Garden off Route 15. He’s still there today; he’s made it up to Assistant Manager, but he’s still just scraping by, paycheck-to-paycheck, living by himself in a studio apartment he can barely afford.

And that’s why Seamus was–and still is–an idiot. He knows it, and chances are, he’d probably be the first to tell you that.

Well, second, I guess, since you’re reading this.

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2 thoughts on “Seamus

  1. Reminds me of the Prodigal Son, except instead of ending up in the pig pen, it’s the Olive Garden. Oh, and there’s not a redemptive ending by reuniting with his father. But seriously, Olive Garden Assistant Manager = Pig Pen Livin’.

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