In Cashtown

In the midst of a cold somber night, the poor stood waiting for their free meal at the shelter. In Cashtown, the poor had ethics similar to the rich, except theirs' came with little strings attached. A poor man's art dwells in simplicity, because with little, one can achieve a lot. Standing in a group to stay warm was protocol for a group of nobodies with nothing left in Cashtown. The figure of the moon stood tall in the sky at night, while the smell of green peppers invaded the nostrils of those homeless by the pizza shop. When you're poor and hungry, anything taste good, and hunger can drive a person to do some hostile things for a meal.
Poor able citizens like: Jimmy, Peter, Jermaine and Greg, had all been hired to kill some powerful people, but ended up back in the system. Suzie, Barb, Alisha and Jada, found themselves linked-up in a human trafficking ring that involved mass prostitution. The need for someone to be sent to free these lost poor souls was evident, because human dignity had reached an all time low in Cashtown. Even in scripture the beloved Christ looked out for the poor, but these situations were different. When I say different, if you didn't have anything to offer in Cashtown, then you were left in an alley to rot and starve. Marvin, the caretaker of most of the poor, had to show the children of Cashtown how to slay and burn rats if they wanted to eat. If you want to see the full picture of how the town worked, then you have to understand the ways of each class of people in Cashtown. The rich used the people in the middle, and the poor got what was left over: dirt, pesticides, food infested with bacteria, and even human feces; the list of leftovers can go on-and-on. The fear of being left with nothing is what haunted those at the top in Cashtown. This fear was evident in the struggling citizens, who had been hanging on to their last meal. No one wants to be thrown to the wolves, but in Cashtown it was evident that the well of cash had run dry. Reports of police hearing gunshots in the middle of the night and the paramedic job that became just as tiresome, was the lasting legacy of a city destined for failure. This violence stemmed from the roots of sloth and the lack of wealth to establish better resources to aid those in need. A town named after something that had become so inflated with interest but was now scarce: "Cash."
Even a bum can look good with money, but education becomes evident when he or she is in higher demand. The language and dialect of a child creates the sound of those he or she idolized growing up, but that alone won't protect them from a bully searching for a punching bag. Why should you feel sorry for someone who has nothing? Why should you give such thought to a crippled child or a blind man? What are the details of a story in a city that once had tall buildings with homeless people running through the streets? What does this tell you about the state of human empathy when it comes to maintaining their own kind? Women selling their bodies to feed their children, whom, were raised with no love from anyone. One night of love left their mother to fend for herself. Skeletal remains of human bones lacking food to feed their flesh. Millions of crying babies in need of care. This is what drove the atheist to his state of thought. This is what drove humanitarian aid workers to their breaking point. Men having to reach deep into themselves to see what really fueled their souls.
Does it matter to invest in flying cars when no one has the cash to pay? Does it matter to pay for education when no one has the cash to buy the books? The evidence and details of what caused such an array of social behavior can be found at the starting point, reflecting on what drove such people to make such foul choices. The details are encoded in those choices, yet some people are left with no choice but to give-in to circumstance. In Cashtown, once the cash dried up, the real nature of it's citizens became evident. The science is clear and concise: "Cash," is what kept the ship afloat.  Many are afraid to go back to what's left of a town named after green paper filled with pestilence and disease. Many are afraid to comprehend the carnal nature of those once fueled by capitalism; capitalism, mixed in the tears of a naturally organized social breed of citizens. Fumes from rocket ships that led the people into their peak of knowledge are all that's leftover, emblazoned in a field of crosses of the brave citizens that once roamed the streets of Cashtown.
Cashtown is now fenced off with toxic fumes and nuclear waste surrounding it. "How did such people end up like this?," was the number-one question on the minds of those who went back to do research, never to be seen again. Their bodies now lie beside the burned bodies of victims in the oil fields of Cashtown. In Cashtown, life was only good when you had cash, everything else was feelings and emotions that you couldn't afford. In Cashtown, social behavior was a waste of time; time, that you would eventually pay for in the end, wishing you had back. If nothing more, Cashtown should remind you that nothing in life is free, and everything comes at a price. Beware when you enter the blocked-off city gates of Cashtown; it may cost you your life, and don't walk the streets alone.  Although the city is now abandoned and infested with animals filled with radiation and pesticides, the smell of cash is still in the air. Those who don't know will be innocent victims and be a reason for others not to enter.