50 The Tragic Life of a Five-Dollar Bill

Hello, I’m a five-dollar bill. I know what you’re thinking. Money can’t talk, I must be going crazy. Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy. I can talk. I also have feelings that nobody seems to think about. Nobody ever thinks about where I’ve been, what I’ve seen. Nobody ever remembers having me in their wallet, but I remember all of them. I have had five different owners before ending up in your wallet.

 My first owner was a man cashing his check at the bank. It was back when I was brand new and crispy. He was clean and smelled good and he had a nice wallet. First wallet I ever seen, and it was designer. Not bad for a first wallet. Things were looking good for me. He had a lot of other crispy bills, bigger bills. I guess I wasn’t that special to him. He spent me right away on gas station food. GAS STATION FOOD! Here I thought that I would be spent on something classy. Who the hell eats gas station food anyways? I would be stuck in that gas station register for what seemed like an eternity.

My second owner came into the gas station wanting some sticks and some cigarettes. He got me and a couple old, dirty one-dollar bills back. His wallet wasn’t as nice as the first wallet I seen. It wasn’t as clean either. There were more receipts than bills in that old wallet. Couldn’t get any worse, right? He pulled me out and started breaking down some green stuff on me. It smelled like cat piss and it made me sticky. What an asshole. He really just used me to roll up a blunt. I felt so used. He dusted me off and handed me to his friend. I guess he owed him five dollars. Hopefully this new owner would be better.

My third owner wasn’t any better. He didn’t even have a wallet. He had a huge wad of bills in his pocket and that’s where I went. I had lost my smooth, crispy appearance and now I was getting bent up. I wondered where he would take me next. It seemed like every time someone took me out, I ended up somewhere worse. There was music and flashing lights. It sounded like a party. There were ass and titties everywhere. He took me to a strip club and unfortunately, I wasn’t spent on food or drinks. It didn’t take him long to stuff me into a stripper’s musty ass. Guess this is my new owner. It’s not quite the way I would’ve wanted to meet her.

My fourth owner counted me out with the other musty bills she had accumulated. She didn’t have a wallet either. She stuffed me into her titties and off we went. There was no telling where this stripper was taking me. Hopefully she would hurry up and spend me on something. First ass sweat and then titty sweat. I didn’t know how much of this life I could take. This wasn’t how I imagined my life. We were back at her apartment where people were already partying. She pulled me out and rolled me up. What the hell was she going to do to me? She put me up to her nose and started snorting something white. Cocaine. This is what I had amounted to.

I was used, I was damaged, and I was covered in cocaine dust. I had hit rock bottom. Her nose wasn’t the only nose that had used me that night. So many people had used me that night and I ended up in someone else’s wallet. It didn’t seem like such a bad wallet. She smelled good and had soft, gentle hands. Anywhere was better than here. She took me out and put me under a pillow. This is how I met my fifth owner.

My fifth owner was a little boy. He had gotten me from the tooth fairy, and he was very excited to have me. He was learning how to save money. He loved me. He constantly counted me with his other bills. He occasionally brought home some new friends. I was finally somewhere safe. He used to play with me, take baths with me, and cuddle with me at night.  I wasn’t just a piece of paper to him and neither were the others. He kept us in a big, blue piggy bank. He used to talk to us and tell us he would never spend us. Whenever he would get home, he’d ask us how our day was. He was the only person to ever do that. He was the only person to ever treat me like a friend. He was the only person to ever care about how a five-dollar bill felt. I wanted to stay there forever and be loved.

One day the piggy bank was broken, and it wasn’t broken by the little boy. It was broken by a man, maybe his dad or somebody. He stole us away from our home. The one place we were happy. He spent my friends on drugs, and I was spent on gas. All I could think about was how sad that poor little boy was going to be once he got home and seen we were all gone. He didn’t deserve that. Deep down I knew that I would never find a friendship like that again, because let’s face it, nobody wants to be friends with a five-dollar bill.

That’s how I came to be in your wallet. You put $45 in your tank and got me back as change. I don’t expect you to keep me. They never do. It’s just a matter of time before you spend me. I’ve already been ripped away from the one person who cared about me, the one person who I cared about. So please, before you spend me on something stupid and meaningless, think about what I’ve been through. Spend me on something that matters. Spend me on something special. Give me a pleasant memory of you, one that will make me smile.