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It was the winter of 1994. I was living out of a cardboard box in the back
yard of my girlfriend's house. It was a house I used to own, but I traded
her the deed to the property in exchange for her '67 Rambler. I always
wanted a '67 Rambler, so the deal looked good at the time.
Little did I know
exactly how badly I had been taken. You see, the Rambler needed a new clutch. The love of my life forgot to mention that.
Oh well, live and learn, I thought.
Home Sweet Home
I was content to live out of the Rambler until I found a new job. I had been
working in my family's stapler repair business, but due to a downswing in the
economy and a surge of interest in paper clips, the business went under in late 1993.
I've always been interested in the publishing business, and everyone always
told me to stick to what I know, so in January of 1994 I put together a
magazine called Rambler Living. Unfortunately, potential investors just
didn't seem to share my vision, so I traded my Rambler for a used printing
press. I still needed ink, developer and paper, so I traded the printing
press for enough supplies to get my first issue out.
I'm not the greatest deal maker. I've come to learn this about myself.
I negotiated a deal with the local appliance store for one of their bigger,
sturdier boxes. It only cost me a few reams of printing paper which I no
longer had a need for. I needed a box to live in, he needed paper for his
copier. Finally, a win-win deal!
Things were starting to look up -- until the first hard rain. Within minutes
my quaint little card board home was nothing more than a pile of wet pulp. I
had finally hit rock bottom. I had nothing left. No home, no money, no
Rambler, and absolutely no concept of equitable value. I looked down at my
last worldly possessions -- a bottle of developer and a can of ink. Then I
noticed the garden hose wrapped neatly in the corner of the yard. I stood
transfixed, mesmerized by the way the beach ball sized hail stones danced off
the frozen surface of a near by wading pool. A chicken squawked in the
distance. It was as if the universe was attempting to point the way with a
glorious symphony of signs.
Then finally, it hit me. It had been so
obvious, so perfectly clear. My destiny was laid out before me in vivid
detail. I raised my eyes to the darkened sky and with tears of joy freezing
to my chin, I euphoricaly cried out the answer --
Brownies! Oh yes, Brownies!
Today, just six months after joining FreeLunch International, I am now a
multi-gazillionaire. I live a life of luxury few American's ever get to
> Never having to bring back rented videos on time!
> Being able to order sausage on both halves of your pizza!
> Tithing at church and not having to fake a money drop!
> Paying for the headset even if you might not watch the in-flight movie!
> Pouring milk down the drain when it gets only a little sour!
> Doing your laundry with hot water every time!
> Getting cavities filled before they hit the nerve!
Yes, the life of a gazillionaire is one of luxury and total peace of mind.
You can do what you want, whenever you want, where ever you want, and to whom
ever you want to. And guess what?!
YOU CAN BE A Gazillionaire TOO!