In a blatant display of hubris, pluck, AND sheer unrestrained cheek, I’ve taken on the affectation of carrying a c note. Everywhere.

Ok.
Wait.
It’s really my last ditch effort at staunching the hemmorageing of the real currency that flows through my grimy little hands like a drunken sailor. Ok, not criticizing the standard issue drunken sailor- been one, done that, got the flight jacket.
But if I gots cash, it’s half life can be measured in hours, praps minutes. Not days or weeks. So I took the advice of my doppelgänger and mentor, mr cam greer, who carries cash. But only big bills.
Ps- I like big bills and I cannot lie.
He pisses through tens and twentys also. So, his solution? Go to fifty and hundreds.
But not, NOT like a sailor on leave. He travels light.
He carries one bill.
Just one.
That’ll getchya through damn near anything for a spell.

So I started carrying one bill, too. Was a fifty for a few weeks, and now it’s leveled up to a hundred.

A c-note.
You can’t hide money, right?
It’s harder to justify spending. Its harder to make change. It’s just damn sticky. Not exactly comforting, like a ten thousand dollar Rolex, but it certainly helps take the edge off. With a c-note, you gots a tank fulla gas, a meal or three, and praps enough to get through an incident.

I didn’t start looking for an incident. Incidents are avoided with extreme prejudice.
The other night, I had an incident.
An opportunity to do the right thing. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t malice aforethought. Worlds collided, things were done, dropped, and opportunities just sorta sprung up.
Oh.
Did they ever.

And they didn’t pass.

They didn’t get the c note.
Details Thursday.