Joe and Mandy both worked. They were also responsible enough to wait until they were out of debt to have children, but it looked like Joe's school loan debt would likely drag on until he and she both were too old to have children of their own.
Joe wanted to pay off his student loan as fast as possible, and he got into tax trouble because he wrote a check too big to Fannie Mae just before tax time, and now the IRS was coming down on the sweet couple who met when their parents dropped them off at college on the first day.
Joe and Mandy had a checkered college experience. They were beautiful, popular, athletic, and beer drinkers. They loved to party. They skated through their college, which was really a meat grinder that printed diplomas, not nationally accredited at all. They both were shocked at the number of employment rejection letters they received. They didn't realize that they had been duped into debt.
Joe and Mandy lived on credit cards and gifts from their parents, but that didn't last. Joe managed to find a job as a janitor for the county which paid above minimum wage. Mandy sold Avon and items on eBay she found at yard sales. Joe's income was steady, and Mandy's was feast or famine, but she had a pretty good eye for antiques although she didn't know it. She didn't really like antiques, but in the dark recesses of her memory lies her great aunt Emma's house. Aunt Emma was a professional collector of antiques and kept the very best of many for herself. Mandy as a collector would focus on items of high value unconsciously, based on her visits to aunt Emma's house as a child. She knew specific items but didn't really know how to value them. Certain item values were ruined by being refinished or polished, where the original finish or patina might have added value, that sort of thing.
Joe cleaned county offices at night. They all were basically the same. At first he was intrigued by the trash in the trash cans, but he soon learned that it was all the same, and had little time to entertain his thoughts as he pushed his cart along, changing the bags, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, waxing, stripping, spraying, scrubbing and so on.
Tonight Joe was in the throws of despair. It would be three days before his next paycheck, they were out of food and he didn't have the courage to tell Mandy that the check on the way to Fannie Mae was about to bounce. He finally had enough. He was shaking with frustration, not knowing what to do. He was thinking about the insurance Mandy would get if he committed suicide, and then he pushed his cart passed the door of the county coroner's office. He thought it was ironic as he entered the office.
Joe stood over the trash can in the county coroner's office and noticed something he had ignored ever since he started work as a janitor. Remember he was once intrigued by the kind of trash in trash cans, but not really papers. He was originally interested in little notes, the kind of snacks those people chose from the vending machines, something that might clue him in on an investment somewhere, or some kind of scandalous leavings.
Joe stared into the trash can. He just stood there, took a deep breath and sighed. A white sheet of paper was floated into the trash without being crumpled or folded. It was a perfectly good sheet of paper. It was a death certificate. For some reason an error was made and the sheet discarded.
Joe turned his eyes upward for the first time in a very very long time. It almost seemed a dangerous idea to do so. He looked at the In-Box. Doing so took his breath away. He wondered if there might be surveillance cameras in the room. Gradually the notion became silly. His eyes focused on the documents within.
There was a stack of reports produced by some pathologists, waiting only for a signature from the county coroner. Joe suddenly realized they were death certificates. If he could convince his creditors that he and Mandy were dead, they could walk away from all of their debts, including the I.R.S.
They would need to totally erase every connection with the current living, and create a whole new network with new friends. They would need to determine if there is any connection at all between their new friends and their old friends and hope no connections are made. That would be very tough, unless, everyone close to them was in on it. Joe wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking he could make a profit selling phony death certificates on the streets.
Joe decided he didn't give a crap. He grabbed the death certificate out of the trash that already had the coroner's signature. He was going to cover the names and causes of death with White-Out and make copies, thousands of copies, and he was going to sell them for $400 each. The sales pitch would be "Hey! Tired of the IRS and Creditors coming after you? They will stop if they think you are dead!"
Joe was out of time, however, and he knew it. He thought he should go ahead and do the deed for him and Mandy, to get out of debt first, and then use their experience as a sales pitch for others.
Joe wanted to pay off his student loan as fast as possible, and he got into tax trouble because he wrote a check too big to Fannie Mae just before tax time, and now the IRS was coming down on the sweet couple who met when their parents dropped them off at college on the first day.
Joe and Mandy had a checkered college experience. They were beautiful, popular, athletic, and beer drinkers. They loved to party. They skated through their college, which was really a meat grinder that printed diplomas, not nationally accredited at all. They both were shocked at the number of employment rejection letters they received. They didn't realize that they had been duped into debt.
Joe and Mandy lived on credit cards and gifts from their parents, but that didn't last. Joe managed to find a job as a janitor for the county which paid above minimum wage. Mandy sold Avon and items on eBay she found at yard sales. Joe's income was steady, and Mandy's was feast or famine, but she had a pretty good eye for antiques although she didn't know it. She didn't really like antiques, but in the dark recesses of her memory lies her great aunt Emma's house. Aunt Emma was a professional collector of antiques and kept the very best of many for herself. Mandy as a collector would focus on items of high value unconsciously, based on her visits to aunt Emma's house as a child. She knew specific items but didn't really know how to value them. Certain item values were ruined by being refinished or polished, where the original finish or patina might have added value, that sort of thing.
Joe cleaned county offices at night. They all were basically the same. At first he was intrigued by the trash in the trash cans, but he soon learned that it was all the same, and had little time to entertain his thoughts as he pushed his cart along, changing the bags, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, waxing, stripping, spraying, scrubbing and so on.
Tonight Joe was in the throws of despair. It would be three days before his next paycheck, they were out of food and he didn't have the courage to tell Mandy that the check on the way to Fannie Mae was about to bounce. He finally had enough. He was shaking with frustration, not knowing what to do. He was thinking about the insurance Mandy would get if he committed suicide, and then he pushed his cart passed the door of the county coroner's office. He thought it was ironic as he entered the office.
Joe stood over the trash can in the county coroner's office and noticed something he had ignored ever since he started work as a janitor. Remember he was once intrigued by the kind of trash in trash cans, but not really papers. He was originally interested in little notes, the kind of snacks those people chose from the vending machines, something that might clue him in on an investment somewhere, or some kind of scandalous leavings.
Joe stared into the trash can. He just stood there, took a deep breath and sighed. A white sheet of paper was floated into the trash without being crumpled or folded. It was a perfectly good sheet of paper. It was a death certificate. For some reason an error was made and the sheet discarded.
Joe turned his eyes upward for the first time in a very very long time. It almost seemed a dangerous idea to do so. He looked at the In-Box. Doing so took his breath away. He wondered if there might be surveillance cameras in the room. Gradually the notion became silly. His eyes focused on the documents within.
There was a stack of reports produced by some pathologists, waiting only for a signature from the county coroner. Joe suddenly realized they were death certificates. If he could convince his creditors that he and Mandy were dead, they could walk away from all of their debts, including the I.R.S.
They would need to totally erase every connection with the current living, and create a whole new network with new friends. They would need to determine if there is any connection at all between their new friends and their old friends and hope no connections are made. That would be very tough, unless, everyone close to them was in on it. Joe wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking he could make a profit selling phony death certificates on the streets.
Joe decided he didn't give a crap. He grabbed the death certificate out of the trash that already had the coroner's signature. He was going to cover the names and causes of death with White-Out and make copies, thousands of copies, and he was going to sell them for $400 each. The sales pitch would be "Hey! Tired of the IRS and Creditors coming after you? They will stop if they think you are dead!"
Joe was out of time, however, and he knew it. He thought he should go ahead and do the deed for him and Mandy, to get out of debt first, and then use their experience as a sales pitch for others.
He went to work erasing the names and cause of death, and replacing the names with his and Mandy's name. He placed the copies in the coroner's in-box, but not on top, a few pages below, so as to not draw suspicion.
Joe moved on to the next office. He was thrilled! But, he couldn't just walk away from his job at the moment, otherwise he would draw suspicion to himself. Wait a minute. If he was cleaning offices the night he put fake death certificates about himself and his wife in the coroner's in-box, wouldn't that be obvious? Not to Joe. Joe was an idiot. He was going home in the morning and hugging his dead wife with his dead arms and packing his dead suitcase while she packed here dead suitcase. They were going to call a ghost taxi to the phantom airport and buy zombie tickets to Hell on the credit card of a corpse.
The county sheriff was at their door the next morning. The end.
Joe moved on to the next office. He was thrilled! But, he couldn't just walk away from his job at the moment, otherwise he would draw suspicion to himself. Wait a minute. If he was cleaning offices the night he put fake death certificates about himself and his wife in the coroner's in-box, wouldn't that be obvious? Not to Joe. Joe was an idiot. He was going home in the morning and hugging his dead wife with his dead arms and packing his dead suitcase while she packed here dead suitcase. They were going to call a ghost taxi to the phantom airport and buy zombie tickets to Hell on the credit card of a corpse.
The county sheriff was at their door the next morning. The end.
