The silver lining

[An old tale retold rather freely: My attempt at doing an Allais]

God moves in mysterious ways. Money also moves in mysterious ways. Maybe God moves money in mysterious ways. In any case, Pierre was rather short of cash and rather full of absinthe, and his mind delved on the Almighty and money alternately, while the barmaid flickered alarmingly in front of him. There was no point in recriminations, was there ? Maybe he should have considered trying to find work, maybe he should not have bought Selma that diamond ring, and then allowed her to find him in bed with .. No, there really wasn’t any point to it, especially since he couldn’t remember the name of the blonde. To be fair to Selma, she had thrown the ring at him then and there, but when day light came, both the ring and his friend in bed had disappeared. He did blame Selma a little bit though. If she could nag him about his handling of chinaware, didn’t a diamond ring deserve a little respect ? Maybe a little pouch, a lock and a steel safe. She could have thrown the key at him ..


His hand groped the lining of his pocket. The feel of a five franc note is rather special. It is all the more tender if it is the last note of currency one possesses. If only, it wasn’t so. If only, he could have just enough money to feed him for the rest of his life. He was not a greedy fellow. Twenty francs a day, for each and every day that he would tread on this earth.


He turned around, and met an angel, as one so often does in unlit bars with a rich aroma. The angel was a kindly old fellow, who looked deep into Pierre’s eyes and said “Son, ask me what you will and I shall grant your wish”. Pierre expounded his twenty franc a day theory and the economics of it. There was a deep and impressive pause, after which the angel said “Yes, your wish shall be granted. Will it be alright if I give you the whole amount right now”


Pierre was astounded. Twenty francs for each day for the rest of his life. And the full amount to be given to him upfront ! Was this all due to the absinthe and the questionable duck he had had for his lunch yesterday ? But no, the barmaid though flickering like a wild fire, was still glaring at him (he had knocked over his glass). In a rosy dream, she would be offering him free drinks.”Yes!Please give me the money” he told the angel. (In life changing moments, eloquence takes a back seat)


The angel opened his purse, counted out thirty francs, handed it to Pierre and vanished, like angels do.

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