Charlie's Estate

I was put in charge of Mr. Stamp's estate
Because, well, it was a sizable estate

You don't usually see that much capital
Held by a high school teacher
But apparently Mr. Stamp
Had made some investments
That paid off later in life

Many of them being stock
In various computer industries

So, when Mr. Stamp contacted my firm
About putting his affairs in order
They assigned me to his case

I arrived at his house
Which is unusual
We don't usually go to a house
But we do make exceptions
For, well, exceptional cases

Mr. Stamp met me at the front door
And instructed me
To return to my car

I assumed that he had changed his mind
About our meeting
And wanted to do business
Back at the firm's office

But when I asked him where we were going
He buckled his seat belt and said--

'The casino'

That's probably when I should have called my boss

On the way to the casino
I asked Mr. Stamp
Why we were going there
And he said that he wanted
To have some fun with his money

He said--'I have two ex-wives and a daughter who hates me and wouldn't take water from me if her hair was on fire.  Who am I supposed to give this money to?'

I asked him why he contacted my firm
If he just planned on using his money to gamble

I said, 'Mr. Stamp, if that's the case, what do you need me for?'

He looked at me
Smiled
And said--

'I'm rotten at picking numbers.'

I probably should have recused myself from the whole thing
But I felt somewhat like a hostage
And before I knew it
We were standing in front of a table
Sipping drinks
Calling out numbers
And blowing on dice

...All right, so I might have been the only one blowing on dice, but that was only after the aforementioned drink sipping

Unfortunately for Mr. Stamp
Or fortunately
Depending on how you want to look at it
I happen to be very lucky

You don't become successful in financial planning
Without a little bit of luck

So instead of spending all his money
Mr. Stamp and I actually walked away
With triple what we walked in with

I think even he was surprised

The casino had to have men
Escort us back to our car

We probably would have kept winning
But one more lucky roll of the dice
And two goons named Vinny and Carlos
Would have tipped us upside down
Over the roof of the casino

When we got back to Mr. Stamp's house
I asked him what he was going to do
With his new fortune

He asked me what I would do with it

I told him I'd move to California
And become a painter

I said--

'I'm good with numbers
But I'm happiest when I'm out in my garage
With a beer
And a paintbrush'

I told him I'd like to be painting on a cliff
Looking out over the ocean
Like what you see in the movies

The tortured artist
Watching the waves roll in

'Fine,' said Mr. Stamp, 'Then I'm leaving my money to you.'

I asked him if he was joking
And he said he wasn't

'A long time ago,' he said, 'A very nice woman gave me a lot of money, and it changed my life.  For the better or for the worse is hard to say, since I still wound up here, but it was still the best gift I ever got.  People don't like to say that about money, but it's true.  Nothing works faster or better for somebody than a pile of cash.  So you take mine and go find that ocean.  Besides, everybody should live in California at some point.  It's a total mindfuck, and it's amazing.'

I told him I couldn't accept his money
But he didn't want to hear it

He got out of the car
And the following week
I was notified--offically
That I was being fired from my job
For becoming personally involved
With a client

A month or so later, Charlie passed away
And I moved to California

I've been in a few car accidents
Since I've been out here
And a fire burnt down my apartment complex

Two of my girlfriends have cheated on me
And I have this nagging cough
That I think may be cancer

So I suppose my luck has run out

But everyday I get to walk on the beach
And wear a t-shirt and jeans
And paint and get dirty
And get drunk
And live the life I thought I wasn't going to have
Until I was in my sixties

So maybe this is a new kind of luck

Either way, Charlie was right

It's a hell of a gift