Poverty Vs. Common Sense – #VSS

320px-Money_Cash Melanie shut the web browser in disgust. The Tumblr post that had been left up showed some guy’s junk covered in leeches. It looked fake to her. Good, but fake. Her brother had been doing horror make up since they were both in second grade. He worked at Weta now and she was stuck studying at state college in Pennsyltucky. She couldn’t be too bitter, though. Life could be a lot worse she guessed.

“Hey Mel, you want to grab some pizza?” The high pitched voice was not so high it wasn’t recognizably male.

She turned and saw it was Elard. The tall gangly sophomore wore a pink tutu and a cropped top. “Nice outfit. Aren’t you afraid of getting cold?”

He smiled. “I’ve got enough fur that it’s not too bad. So, ‘za or no?”

“I’ll pass this time. I’ve got some cramming to do.”

“Buzzkill.” He waved fingers at her. “JK. Talk to you later.” He flounced off to meet with the rest of the group.

For a moment she thought about giving in. Her stomach rumbled, but her bank account had an echo. She turned back around to the computer and was surprised to see a box had popped up on her screen.

"Hello, Ms. Rossi. Can I interest you in a money making scheme?"

She snorted. “Must be a virus. Stupid men and their stupid porn.”

"I assure you that I am not a virus, Ms. Rossi."

Her jaw fell open. “You can hear me?”

"And see you. That's a lovely sweater, though it looks a bit out of style."

She picked at the bulky beige sweater her grandmother had made. “Thanks. I… What the fuck?”

“Sssssh.” The librarian at the desk must have heard her.

The machine’s webcam had a green light beside it. Whoever this was really could see her. “So, how can I make some money? I won’t strip and I won’t do anything illegal.” She didn’t think she had the body for stripping, but still it always struck her as skeevy.

"Nothing illegal is required."

The browser opened and Google Maps fired up.

"Merely go to this address and someone will be waiting for you. They will have a package for you to deliver."

Common sense warred with poverty. “How much?”

"Five hundred dollars."

She hit the print button on the browser. The library printer whirred to life.

SHOULD SHE MEET HER TRAGIC END OR SHOULD THE PERSON RECEIVING THE PACKAGE MEET THEIRS?

Let me know in the comments.

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