Ficlets

I could make Imelda Marcos jealous. A billionaire like me could easily build a collection of three thousand pairs of shoes. However, as shocking as this might sound, I only have one pair of shoes. I might be one of the filthiest and richest sons of a bitch you have ever met, but I just don’t feel the urge to buy a second pair.

I have other ways to spend money, don’t worry. On a whim I might buy an Island. If I need to sneeze, I fly to Geneva. If I want steak, I go to São Paulo. If I am depressed, I gobble up corporations. Granted, I am no Manolo Blahnik loving character out of some Candice Bushnell bestseller. And I could easily afford the latest Italian or German shoes. Heck, I can get my own brand of shoes with whatever name I want on it. But I don’t feel like it.

I might be crazy about helicopters but not about shoes.
I love my only pair of shoes. It is comfortable. Yes, bit worn, does not really give out a billionaire vibe, but I don’t care. I am rich and I can afford to have only one pair of shoes.