My Lucky Rupee, by Opal Mehta
My name is Opal.
One time I decided to take a Latin lover after having seen one on a daytime television soap opera. I found her on the beach. She was very burly and masculine. Swarthy too. Her name was Ox de Klor. But I just thought of her as my aryan bitch.
Our brief tryst was oddly sexual in nature, without much conversation or dialogue, save the occasional "that hurts!"
Mostly it was just a lot of nighttime commotion.
Her crotch bulged with glee at the prospect of being used and then discarded by your truly.
Not to sound prudishly rascist, but I prefer my galpals to be under 13 slightly more naive than Miss de Klor. With bigger breasts than their age deserves.
Long story short, I slept with her anyway. A pityfuck.
So that's why I call it oddly sexual.
Like so many others, I would break her heart. She probably even went so far as to write a book about it, so devastating was my rejection.
Hell, yeah, I dumped her trashy ass!
She's probably the one who gave me cooties.
I vowed right then and there in my self-soiled Calcutta squalor that when I became an acclaimed investment banker, that I would put my hard earned rupees to good use, namely the arduous task of finding a habitable luxury penthouse for myself somewhere in decrepit TriBeCa.
My precociously horny childhood days and nights in rural Calcutta were, by comparison, joyous, bucolic times, sleeping outside whilst unfraid of ickiness, bad weather and disagreeably rancid canned deviled ham.
One particularly shiny rupee I discovered stood out from all the rest: It was almost circular in roundness.
The way that it stoically reflected the sun's harsh and unforgiving rays of sunshine back into the heavens of outer space suggested that this was no merely mortal coin.
In my possession was a gift from the gods above, meant for me alone.
If I was ever to spend this lucky rupee, I would be obligated to think long and hard, and then spend it extremely wisely after much consultation with clerics and shaman and witchdoctors. If I was ever to sell my soul to the highest bidder, it would be pretty expensive, I'm sure. The fat that I still have that lucky rupee speaks for itself.
And it should also tell you someting about my integrity.
