New People

As she sometimes does when the jackpot gets obscenely large, Diana came home with a lottery ticket:

“Hi, Darling. How was your day.”
“Long and boring. I got us a lottery ticket.”
“Oh good. I was worried we’d be left out of all the hype.”
“What are we going to do with the money if we win?”
“Well, we should probably talk to a financial planner in order to make sure the taxes are paid and then maybe set up some trusts or something.”
“No, I mean what are we going to buy?”
“Well, we really don’t need anything right now.”
“No! No, no, no. You’re not playing the game right. It’s 500 million. What would you buy first?”
“Hmmmm… I’ve been eyeing that Rockwell BladeRunner® saw they always show on TV at four in the morning.”
“No! You’re terrible at this! I would get a little convertible.”
“Yes, because winter time in Nebraska is when you need a convertible the most.”
“And I’d need new clothes and a new house.”
“Uh huh.”
“And a new engagement and wedding ring set.”
“You have wedding ring, you never wear it.”
“It doesn’t fit anymore. And everyone we know already knows we’re married, so I haven’t bothered to get it resized. But I’d want all the new people we hang around with to know I was happily married.”
“And let me guess: you want them to be able to tell you’re married from about 200 yards away?”
“Exactly. A five-carat stone should do the trick.”

(Thirty minutes later)

“What new people?”
“You said you’d want the new people we hung around with to know you were married. What new people?”
“You know… the people we meet at the Mercedes dealership… the Country Club… the Riviera…”
“You have a problem.”
“You just don’t know how to be rich.”

(Thirty minutes after that)

“Do not post any of this on Facebook.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“It makes me sound shallow.”
“Yes, it does.”

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