Time to retire

Well I’m down here in Florida. You might have noticed I haven’t posted in a few days, though I did send out a mass email letting everyone know that I got published again on the Phat Phree website.

I may have come across a problem, folks. I don’t want to work. I want to be retired. True, I’m only 30 and I’ve got like 23 cents in savings, but I don’t care. I’m ready to pack it in and move down to Florida for good.

In short, I love it here. I got off the plane and it was 80 degrees. When I left it was 40. That means it’s twice as good here. Do the math.

I wake up, take a shower. My mom makes me some breakfast. I go for a bike ride, I swim in the pool. I relax in the hottub. I watch digital cable on my dad’s 36″ Sony Wega. I surf the internet on our Comcast high-speed connection from the comfort of my bed thanks to our wireless router. I play with the cat on the lanai.

Sounds pretty sweet, huh?

What the hell would I want to work for? Cuz it’s “rewarding”? HAHAHAHAHA. Please. I had heart surgery. I didn’t almost die just so I could punch the time clock after working eight hours at the cracker factory. Who am I, Kirk Van Houten?

Now, let me set you straight: work is for suckers. All those rich people you see walking around during the middle of the day? They’re better than you and me. They are superior in every way. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be rich.

I don’t care how you get your money, that’s not my concern. White slavery, drug trafficking, murder-for-hire, whatever. Just get your money and then retire. Don’t be one of these people who gets some money but still works 80 hours a week because they want more of it. Just get like 2 or 3 million in the bank, buy a nice, modest house or condo and live off the interest for the rest of your life.

That’s the life. Trust me. I’ve tasted it. I’ve taken a little bite, now I want the whole pie.

Am I saying I’m gonna have my parents take out a big insurance policy and then murder them and make it look like an accident? Yes. Yes, I am. From their ashes will rise a new Eric. One who is rich and doesn’t have to work.

Goodbye to the old Eric Filipkowski! Say hello to the new Enrique Filipkowskistein.

OK, so the name isn’t important.



  1. Florida is a swamp of corruption and boobs. I’ve read the novels of Carl Hiaasen. I know.

    Don’t get murdered by real estate developers while you’re down there. I hear that happens a lot.

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