Andrew thought that his family was decent. Sure, he knew that they were poor, working class, "deplorables," who worked as farmers. At least, that was what his father had done until his dad's profits had fallen to such a level that they were no longer able to support his family. His father now worked as a laborer at an agribusiness, tending their fields and taking orders from them. Andrew noticed that his father missed the autonomy of his own farm, but his new job payed well and was allowing him to invest to try and raise his family out of poverty.
That is, before the state had cut funding for the state-sponsored college tuition program to pay for budget deficits. Andrew followed all of this in the news. He never considered himself to be particularly bright, but he had hoped to get to college and become a stock-broker. Things looked bad, Andrew noted to himself dismally.
Andrew was of medium height, with lighter brown hair and golden fur, and a lanky appearance. But why Andrew cared about his looks, he didn't know. They had never done anything for him. Andrew then remebered why he was thinking about his father: his father had begun to sport a bit more of a gut recently. Andrew's family was incredibly efficient with its resources, as poverty forces people to be. And that habit would never die. Andrew further noted that his family never wasted food; but with increased means came increased gains.
Andrew's mom and dad always encouraged the mantra, "Don't waste your food." Now, however, they had enough money to purchase a surplus of food; so his parents did. Andrew knew that his dad was fat; and despite what he heard people say, Andrew had always associated fat with wealth. If his father was content, Andrew decided he could let him enjoy this new luxury.
Andrew sat down to think for a moment when he felt a strange pressure on the waistband of his pants. Andrew had noticed that his pants seemed to fit better at the waist than they previously had. They were more snug, comfortable, and able to stay up without a cincture of a belt, which Andrew noted he had to loosen a hole when he sat down because a small fold of fat pressed against it. He was still scrawny, but at least now he couldn't see his various ribs.
Going to a public school was awful. Andrew sat in class, learned nothing but propaganda, and drooled on himself. None of his teachers cared about him but one: his Chemistry teacher. Mr. Chris was a middle-aged, short, stout man who had a bald-cap; but he was the kindest and smartest man Andrew had ever known. The man's only weakness was that he didn't realize that his pupils didn't understand what he said sometimes.
Andrew frequently found himself talking to Mr. Chris after class because the man had the most amazing stories, all of which he asserted were true. He had been a stock broker on Wall Street and was actually quite wealthy, but taught Chemistry because he could. Andrew also smiled at the correlation between weight and wealth. Today thebtwo were discussing how to invest well when the bell rang for the end of lunch. Andrew decoured the last bit of his sandwich, thanked Mr. Chris, and walked to his next class…   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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