My dad is worth several billion dollars. He keeps his money to himself. On Sunday nights after sex, he gives my mom a belly pack stuffed with large bills. That constitutes her working budget for the week.
My mom hates this arrangement. She hates that my dad is so rich. He didn’t earn it. The money lay in a bank waiting for him to be born.
My dad’s mom, on the other hand, is glad that he has the money, even though he won’t let her get near it. He gives her a small pack of it every week. Not after sex, of course. As far as she’s concerned, he desrves it and has every right to keep it to himself as much as he wants.
What my dad’s mom doesn’t like is how my mom runs the family and spends her weekly share of the money. My dad’s mom believes that my mom wastes her money. On organic food. On concerts. On donations to charity. My dad’s mom would reduce this spending by more than one half. She would cut off the allowances to my sister and myself. She believes that the two of us should get jobs at McDonald’s after school and work our way up to the top of leading financial institutions.
My sister ignores all of this. She hangs out with a group of recent college graduates that does a lot of drugs and sex and, according to her, creative art projects.
I spend most of my time online in an anonymous hackers group. Our goal is to crash the Internet in its totality and end Western Civilization as we know it.