THE TESTIMONY OF A $100 BILL
By I.C. Veritas ©
Hi, my name is Buck. On March 15th 1975, in Washington DC, I along with millions of other $100 bills that day, were birthed right off the printing press, smelling fresh and looking crisp, with a productive and bright future awaiting us.
I’m not sure where everyone else went, but my new adventure started out at a Bank Of America in Hollywood Ca.
I remember being stuffed in a bag with a bunch of other $100-dollar bills, and being put in a cold dark vault, for which seemed like eternity.
Then one day, our bag got it’s turn to visit what they called, “CASH REGISTERS”, next to what seemed to be those of lesser value, $50s, $20s, $10s, $5s and the most popular of us all, $1-dollar bills. Each of us excitedly waiting to see what kind of humans our lives would be in the hands of.
My turn finally came, when a sharp dressed and distinguished looking actor, who came up to my teller and preceded to withdraw $1,000. He stuffed me into his wallet and quickly got into a very long vehicle, I later learned was called a limousine. Later that night, I remember riding in the limo again and it had stopped to pick up a beautiful woman in an elegant gown, and off we went to a very upscale restaurant, and we soon departed ways, when “fancy pants”, placed me on the table as a tip, and said, “goodbye and have a nice day” to the waiter.
The waiter picked me up and looked at me, gleaming with surprise. He seemed very happy to be holding me. I figured, hey, this isn’t so bad, one clean wallet to another. But not for long.
The next night my new owner decides to go out to a very crowded disco. The music was very loud, it had flashing colored lights, and I could feel myself getting bumped in the wallet once in a while from being pressed up against other humans, with all his dancing around. It wasn’t until around 2:00 am in the morning did he finally pull me out and hand me to the cab driver, since he was too drunk to drive himself home.
I ended up in this guy’s well-worn and beat up wallet and noticed he wasn’t as well kept and fancy as the last two, but hey, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. My next adventure ended up being at what is called a high-class strip club. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, there were “next to naked” women dancing around on poles and grinding themselves in men’s laps, including my new owner, like really close to my safe housing. All of a sudden, he opened up his wallet and pulled me out along with some $1s. With his being drunk and God knows what else, I’m assuming he didn’t mean to pull me out along with the $1. dollar bills, who did he think I was?
Too late, I’ve been stuffed in this woman’s panties, or whatever you call the dental floss she was wearing. Then later that night, I was put in her purse.
Evidently, this stripper was also an escort on the side to very wealthy, important, influential politicians having their cake on the side. I hung out in her purse for a few days, until one night she ends up at the Hilton meeting a congressman for an evening of fine dining, sex and my being rolled up and having white powder being sucked up my innards into their noses? For some reason I was feeling pretty good that whole night. Except the next day I felt used.
As you can imaging, I’m no longer smelling good, and I’m no longer looking crisp and I’ve been all crumpled up, Yuck!This woman obviously had a drug problem, so I’m sure my next stop would be the downtown red-light district of L.A. Sure, enough I was traded for a gram of cocaine, and stuffed in the dealer’s pocket. I didn’t come out until the dealer went to a record store to purchase some vinyls, and cassettes tapes. The owner of the store, would often keep some of the money and put the rest in the bank. Thankfully, I wasn’t taken to the bank, as I later found out that old bills like us, go back to the bank end up being shredded.
As, you can imagine, I’m not smelling and looking all that good, as I’ve sure been through the ringer. But one day, as I’m lying in his pants pockets, he ended up accidentally washing me along with his other cloths, and I came out like new, all squeaky clean and smelling fresh again…. whew! I felt brand new and born again.
He later decided to give me as a gift to his Born-Again Christian sister, as a birthday gift in a card.
I remember sitting on this woman’s dresser for weeks, wondering when is she going to use me for something good and worth wild this time. That’s all I desired, was to be used for the purpose to help others. Not so much to be used for the debauchery of the world, but to really be used to help someone improve their life in some way.
This woman must have been thinking and praying the same thing, as she ended up putting me in an envelope and marked on the front…” DONATION FOR SUSAN & HER CHILD” … As she puts me back into her purse.
I remember going to her church and thinking she was going to put me in the offering plate, like so many around me were doing, but she didn’t. She waited until after church and walked up to a godly mother in her 20’s and said, “God told me to give this to you”…. Our prayers were answered as this single mother hugged her and told her, she was so thankful to be able to now afford the PG & E bill that was exactly $100.
I’ll never forget that day and how God used me to bless someone in such a way that glorified Him.
