Poverty: The Grim of Reaper's Assassin

"When the ocean gets choppy, pay attention to who's standing behind you."

Which boat is the most racist?

A boat can’t be racist, silly.

Okay, which boat is likely to have the most racists on it?

Bobby was looking for a new beginning. He traipsed down to the docks; he needed to reinvent himself, start anew, find hope, find a new path forward.

A Caucasian man stood directly behind Bobby. The man began to opine.

Mister, are you looking for an adventure? I think you should join our crew. You wouldn’t want to pick the boat in the middle, too hard to understand the different languages. You definitely don’t want to choose the vessel on the right (Boat 3); I find those people stick to their own kind. I would suggest looking at all the happy people, dancing to a kicking tune—most of them are from the same city—most even went to the same school, so why don’t you sail with us? You won’t be disappointed.

Bobby neglected: The same city. Same school. Same pigment. And chose to stick with his own kind? As if that is a fucking thing.

The only thing, they weren’t his kind. Bobby was an outsider. A little older. More life experience. Bobby had overcome much—all with a smile on his face.

Boat 1 sailed the seas for years, turning into a decade, turning into more. Some from the same school + city got off, burned out, entered rehab, or just broke down. Bobby kept pressing forward—never fully feeling comfortable in his sailing selection.

Bobby’s maturity blessed him with a keen ability to converse with diverse suppliers in each port of call. Bobby was adept at navigating a wide-berth of subject matter; unlike his shipmates, who tended to deal with merchants and suppliers they knew growing up (offering deep discounts)—Bobby provided the boat with a growing base, enriching the ship’s captain and crew.

Bobby’s life still faced a few challenges, seasickness, and such, but Bobby managed to overcome his challenges with a smile on his face and a fierce determination to continue on.

The seas turned rough, twenty-foot swells began hammering the boat, surviving became a questionable hope?

Like everyone, Bobby feared for the future.

The angry sea kept spanking the boat. Bobby reached out to his crewmates in search of a way forward. He leaned on the railing of the ship.

Why are you pushing me? Why you? I trusted you? I thought you were my friend? Why…?

With the last why floating in the salty air, Bobby was thrown off the boat into the raging sea—the thing is, Bobby, although he paddled through much in life, never learnt how to swim. He began drowning.

Just as he was about to perish, Boats 1 + 2 sailed by, tossing lifelines into the water, saving Bobby to tell more stories on another day.

While gasping for air on Boat 3, Bobby glanced over at Boat 1; on the deck of Boat 1 danced a group of Caucasians, all-dancing to songs that don’t belong to them.

I thought this Opinion piece was going to be about Poverty + The Grim Reaper.

It is, you see, during Bobby’s years at sea, every year the government gave him a little something back at tax time. The year after being thrown into the turbulent waters, taxes done, 80% of annual income erased, and now, for the first time in more than a decade, Bobby owes taxes.

The Grim Reaper is lurking. Poverty sucks. Starting each month at $0 after rent is paid—well, the math is simple: unsustainable.

Bobby is not the only one sinking in despair. If you are older and, on the outside, WTF.

Bobby will survive. But what he’d like to share with everyone is don’t ever get onto Boat 1, you may think because they look the same as you, they’re on your side, but, when things get choppy, the only ones they’ll look out for, will shrink down to just one—something they don’t even understand themselves.

June 14, 2021, by Lindsay Wincherauk

(705 words)