Granted, you now have money for those things. Unfortunately that is the only money that you will ever be able to possess from this point forth. Not realising this tiny fact, you run off and have a ball at the fair and at the zoo - wasting all your money on shitty plastic swords and snow-cones for everyone and their dog. Upon your return you are unable to pay rent or bills, nor can you purchase food, gas, clothing, personal hygiene products, hard liquor or fabulous presents for gays. You make do by giving blowjobs in exchange for all these things, but it's incredibly tiring and your greasy landlord always wants it on the face. Eventually you lose your gag reflex and your Renaissance Festival boyfriend leaves you for a maiden of "virtues pure". You're moderately relieved because he could only get it up to Star Wars RP, which got old fast - especially since he insisted on being Lea all the time and always made you Jabba (which sent you into a deep spiral of depression because you were constantly wondering if he was a fag, or if he was insinuating something about your drastic weight gain brought about by a diet of whatever is discarded from the grease trap at the fast-food place down the street as you have no money to actually buy food.)
On the other hand, he was a rising star amongst Walmart Greeters, so his meagre income was somewhat useful to you. Now you are forced to wander the streets with a sign saying "Will blow for food, NO GAG". As fate would have it, a bird shits in your mouth and you choke to death.
I wish that Morwen still loved me <_<
