Stonks

You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.

She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream “Save your money!”, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you.

As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?”

Stonks only go up.

But you don’t.

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