Somewhere in New Jersey is a lonely, quiet, empty office. The initials UNRG barely legible from the removed lettering on the door. I opened the door to see a desolate office with a single disconnected phone, some crumpled up post-it stickers, a half eaten Double Whopper with Cheese, 73 cents in spare change, an old ripped up copy of an 8K and a share printing press with fresh ink sitting in the middle of the floor.
I stood there as a slow tear trickles down my face in what I was lead to "Believe," and extensive DD told me to do. My hopes and dreams shattered.
*fade out*
*fade in*
Somewhere in the Carribean, 2 lounge chairs, a festive table with two lit cigars, half full glasses of Gentlemen Jack and a brief case full of shareholders' money. There is distant laughter coming from Douglas DiSanti and his 3 girlfriends (topless dancers)..."That was too easy," I hear them saying.
*sigh*
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