Crash

"John. John, it's time to get up dear," said Isabella in a soft, reassuring voice, "You don't want to be late for work do you?" At that John Munny perked up, smiling at his beautiful young wife, who when seeing his grinning face gave him a dirty while playful look. "Come on now John. Coffee's ready and I'm making breafast." she said laughingly. John just kept staring at her to which Isabella responded with an annoyed nodding of her head before walking out of the master bedroom pretending to not appreciate the attention.


         Isabella was of average height, tall slender, with wavy chestnut hair and big exotic hazel eyes. She and John had met at a café in 1922 where she was working as a waitress. John was a fresh college graduate who was enjoying his first date with Liz Horder, but John couldn't help staring at Isabella, particularly the area between her chin and abdomen. Liz got angry. " You know John," stated Liz as she got out of her chair and grabbed her purse, "If you wanted me to come here with you so you could stare at some slut, you could have at least told me. I would have brought something to read!" John feigned trying to make her stay, but Liz was gone. He then waved Isabella over and decided to try his luck with her.

         
         John got up from his bed after a few more minutes of reminiscing. He opened his closet and took out the suit he was going to wear for that day. He always made sure not to wrinkle anything as he got dressed. The red noose he put around his neck everyday was always impeccably tied. After that messy business was done he went to the bathroom. While staring in the mirror, he examined himself, which he tended to do from time to time. At twenty-nine, John had been more fortunate than his other relatives in regards to his hair. John still had all of his thick brown hair when his father and grandfather had lost much of it before turning thirty. Being rather tall, he had to crouch a little to comb it and see to it that the brilliantine was evenly distributed. After combing and shaving his almost non-existent beard, he grabbed to little belly that was beginning to form around his midsection. Seven years of sitting down work at Wall Street doesn't do much to keep one in shape, but John was proud of it. To him it meant that he had 'made it.' John hadn't grown up in a poor family, but at the same time his father sometimes would have trouble putting food on the table. John Munny Sr. worked as a construction worker on the new ever rising buildings that were being built in New York City where the work was dangerous and didn't pay exceptionally well. John Jr. learned early on that money was the way in which he would better himself. He used to pick up the newspapers men with suits would throw away, in which he'd read about Wall Street and the booming stock market and the money to be made. He became obsessed with business and motivated himself to study it when his father granted him his wish of going to college. His father never understood why his son wanted to major in business, being from a young age very good at drawing and painting. John however put those interests aside, labeling them useless and foolish. He was first in his class when he graduated from NYU in 1922, and immediately found a job working in Wall Street. Now seven years later, John knew he had finally 'made it.'


         "How do you want your eggs, dear?" asked Isabella standing over the stove.
"Do we have bread?" asked John.
"Yes we do. It's right over there in the cabinet."
"Ok. I'll take them fried then?" he said. Isabella responded by breaking the eggs over the pan tssssssssss.
"What's missing hear?" John thought to himself as he sipped his coffee. Isabella, as if reading his mind, said, "I don't know why the paper didn't come today. I know you like reading it while you have your coffee."
"I knew there was something missing."
"What." said Isabella.
"Oh. Nothing. Just thinking out loud." said John. Not having the paper, he needed something else to occupy himself while he waited for his eggs. John found himself looking around his and Isabella's luxury apartment, something he hadn't done in quite awhile, but the same feeling of pride returned as it always had. He was proud of his nice apartment. It was spacious, with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a study, parlor room, dining room, and full size kitchen. The apartment was fully decorated with the fine paintings and vases and French furniture. John was so proud that he had the ability to fill his house with all these things. "Eggs are ready." said his wife. The smell of fried eggs had already told John that they were ready. As they were eating at the table Isabella asked, "What day is it today? I have an appointment to get my hair done on Wednesday."
"It's Tuesday today...October 29th." responded John.
"Oh. Ok. I think I'll cut it short tomorrow. That's the way all the girls are wearing their hair these days." Isabella said coyly. John looked up from his eggs and saw her giving him a playful smile. He responded smiling, "Go ahead. See what happens when you do."
"Oh John." Isabella retorted laughing.
"It's getting late, Is'. I better get going." said John.
"Ok. See you tonight. I love you."
"Love you too."


         John left his apartment and got into the Packard he had recently bought. He pulled out on the street and began the long drive to Wall Street. "I'll get a newspaper when I get down there." He thought to himself. As he neared Wall Street he noticed more commotion than usual along the sidewalks and streets. Men with suits were running every which way. Paper boys were  frantically screaming the headlines of the day as they stood on the street corners. John couldn't make out completely what they were screaming. All he could hear was 'Crash.' It wasn't until after he parked his car and found Tommy, the paperboy right outside Wall Street, that he realized what the calamity was all about. Right there on the front page. The news cut through John's heart as if he'd been stabbed.......OCTOBER 29,1929 STOCK MARKET CRASHES MILLIONS LOST.... He couldn't believe what he had just read. John had his entire savings in the market. The market had been booming for ten years, never having dropped significantly.
         

              John bolted inside. He was immediately stopped by his friend Ben. "John, where the hell have you been!? The market's shot to hell! Everybody's selling! Stocks ain't worth shit anymore! C'mon. Boss wants to see us right away." John's boss, Mr. Parker, was a rather portly middle aged  man who had started his career with  Standard Oil in the old days. He started his own brokerage firm when he saw that market trend showed no sign of going down and made a fortune. The tone of the meeting was somber. What Mr. Parker had to say wasn't good at all. "The stock market has crashed. Millions of dollars have already been lost. I called this meeting because I want you all to be aware that our firm has lost many funds as well, and I will have to make some personnel cuts. Unfortunately, I have to base my decision on seniority. Anyone who has not been working for Parker House Inc. for at least ten years, I'm sorry, but I can't afford to keep you on anymore."


         John was in complete panic. Being with the firm for only seven years, his job was gone. The job that had brought him such wealth and prestige, that had given him all the material possessions, which drove him to work harder and accrue more possessions, was no more. He had no idea as to the status of his stocks and money, but all he could do at that moment was fidget in his seat as Mr. Parker kept talking on. John then suddenly realized, "What the hell am I still doing here! I don't work here anymore!" He jumped out of his seat and ran out of the office. He headed for the main floor and could do nothing but watch the ticker tape tell him that he was now penniless. John stood there for another ten minutes, watching the ticker tape repeat to him the awful truth of his new found poverty over and over again. After he was satisfied, he walked out of Wall Street, got into his car, and began the long drive home.


         Isabella, out buying fruit from the local vendors in the midmorning sun, was full of excitement. The doctor had told her she was pregnant not one week ago. She had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell John, but he was always so busy with work. She decided she'd tell him when he got home that night. As she browsed the fruits the sellers were offering her, she was light with the dreams and hopes of her, John, and their future family.


         John arrived home around eleven o'clock. He found that Isabella was not home, and he sighed in relief. He needed to be alone. He took off his suit jacket, untied the red noose from his neck, and lit a cigarette while sitting on his French style couch in his parlor. "I have lost everything." he said to himself, "I have lost everything. All that I had is gone. All that I worked for, all that I slaved for. It's all gone." John was beginning to break down. He had made himself believe that money and wealth was all that was worth having in life. He had devoted his life to making money, but the system which created his wealth and greed had taken in back. John's entire world had fallen apart.


         John went to his closet and pulled a box off the top shelf. He sat down on his bed. He took the cold shiny pistol out of the box, took one final drag of his cigarette before putting it out, put the gun up under his chin, "I'm sorry Isabella,"  and pulled the trigger.