Congratulations Slack-Ass!

This one goes out to you, Glenn Montgomery of Hare and Gone Records. Today is your lucky day.

Today a man is going to fall from the sky. He’ll be wearing a skydiving outfit, a resplendent yellow affair that probably showed up on radar on his whole long trip down. He’ll be pretty mangled from the impact, and even though you’ll know what to expect you’ll still vomit a little when you get a good look at him.

It’ll be a tiny reflexive heave with barely anything coming out, but it’ll keep your head down so you won’t see what’s coming next. That’s why you won’t notice the duffel bag until it smashes into the ground with a deafening report.

You wouldn’t have thought that a duffel bag could make so much noise just falling, but it’ll be like a gunshot went off next to your ear and you’ll hit the ground, arms covering your head.

You’ll stay that way for a few minutes, waiting for the next object to drop out of the sky. But only silence will greet you. When you finally find the courage to stand up you’ll survey the scene.

The yellow jump-suited skydiver’s chute will be slashed, nearly in half apparently by some sort of serrated blade. What’s left of his face will be a rictus of terror, offset by the massive trauma from the fall. You’ll have trouble looking at him directly to figure out just what happened, but you’ll know he’s dead right away.

The duffel bag will simply be open. There’s no way of telling where along its flight it was opened, but it’ll be gaping and mostly empty, except for a few crisp bundles of bills which somehow survived the flight.

You’ll pick one up to investigate it and it’ll be a stack of twenties, at least six hundred dollars worth if you’ve got your guess right, sitting there in your hand. Rent and food for a month fell out of the sky for you.

As you try to puzzle out just what circumstances could’ve caused these events loose bills will start to flutter down all around you. Money will rain from the sky.

You’ll be a little terrified at first, because money is so atrociously dirty, but then you’ll remember that you can spend it on lots of different things, like drugs and more rent. Then you’ll pick up the duffel bag and gleefully run about, trying to catch fluttering bills, the grisly corpse a few feet away now almost completely removed from your thoughts.

You’ll be the luckiest record store employee in the whole state of Missouri come Tuesday, there’s no doubt. Just try to clear out before the safe falls as well. We can’t guarantee your safety at that point.

Also, try to avoid making any big ticket purchases other than weed over the next few days. Someone wanted that guy to fall, after all, and they might still be looking for their magical, magical money, and you can’t spend money when you’re in a woodchipper. Your grandpa told you that long ago, but it remains true.

These bits of advice aside, however, we’d like to say congratulations, slack-ass. If we had any people located in the rural hellscape that is Missouri we’d so be partying at your place tonight, but luckily we don’t.