SLAM DUNK

THIS WEEK'S SHORT, SHORT STORY . . .
In the excitment of hearing my poems read on national radio I very nearly forgot to post this week's story! (If you missed the details of my 15 seconds of fame, check 14 March post.)
Too easily do resolutions fall by the wayside. So, here's the story (Could the choice of title have something to do with this week's Final Four? Hmm.):

SLAM DUNK
“You said it was a sure thing Mr. Nussbalm, a slam dunk,” said the doorman.
“Come on, Rick, there are always risks, you know that,” replied the man in the Armani topcoat.
“An easy ten to twenty-five percent return on investment you said.”
“You’ve seen the news, you know what the market has been lately, Rick. But cheer up, things will turn around eventually. We must be patient.”
“But my bills are piling up. I need that money now.”
“There is no changing your mind once you commit to an investment. Wheels are in motion.”
“I invested in good faith on your say so, Mr. Nussbalm,” pushed the doorman. “Now everything’s gone sour . . . well, I think you ought to return my initial investment.”
“That’s not how the world works, my friend. Even if I wanted to return your money I couldn’t do it. It’s tied up in illiquid assets,” he said as he spotted the approaching black town car.
What will I do now, wondered Rick as he opened the passenger door for Nussbalm. What? Pray? He couldn’t believe in a god who bailed out losers like himself, pitiful dudes who kept shooting themselves in the foot. “God helps those who help themselves” was the way he’d heard it.
As the town car beetled away into crosstown traffic, Rick stood in his ill-fitting uniform, the city swirling around his body like a swollen river around a rotted log.
How much money was left in the checking account? Not much. Enough for a six pack maybe. Yes, that much - and a few rounds for his dad’s old service revolver. Only question now was where to put them for the best return on his investment - best bang for the buck.
An unbidden chuckle escaped his throat. With it came the knowledge that however tempted, he probably wouldn’t kill anybody. Not himself, not Nussbalm. At least not right away. He’d wait a day or two - see how things panned out.
Story of my life, thought Rick, stand around opening doors for other dudes to walk through.