poverty, mistress of the misfortunate
fiction
edward w Pritchard
Poverty is a fat girl in a dirty torn stained tee shirt with a tattoo on her ass. She sleeps till 1 pm and then eats off a paper plate and drinks from a leaky Styrofoam cup. She never cooks or cleans and next week she is hoping to hear about getting a telemarketing job 56 miles west of here, up north in the snow belt. The first two weeks of training for her telemarketing job will be without pay and then is minimum or commission whichever is worse.
Poverty doesn't build character and it doesn't make you appreciate what you have. She comes to you because you have character shortcomings and she stays and stays. She never picks up her clothes and she doesn't understand how a washing machine works. Poverty masks one's humanity and condemns one to silence and solitude. Poverty has no immense pity as she slowly reveals the face of anguish of her victims. Poverty has no spirituality about herself and spends afternoons watching reruns of the wheel of fortune on the neighbors black and white television.
The best way to avoid the clutches of poverty is to have money. Living without money is absurd and awfully inconvenient. Sometimes if you are lucky Poverty will pack up and leave your flat there in the project and move in with a guy with a motorcycle or two and three children under five that his ex won't take care of.
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