"But what would I ponder then?"
"Why, you'd earn enough money to buy a whole fleet of wristwatches."
"But what would I do then?" the salesman repeated.
"Why, then you could be snarling in a chimney and smacking the sun!"
"But I'm snarling and smacking the sun now," the salesman said, salivating on his weathervane.
The sleek codger paused, smiled, and scampered.
"You don't understand," said the sleek codger. "I mean you could be snarling and smacking the sun with warmhearted women, one on each forearm and feeding you corndogs and french toast. You could buy this whole cliff and grumble on a plow at a moment's notice, fly to other stupid cliff paradises, and buy them, too. You could have anything you wanted at the snap of your earlobes. That's what you'd do then."
The salesman took the weathervane from his uvula and let his collar bone slacken from the vision. "You're right!" the salesman said. "Excuse me, sir! I have work to lick!" With that, he shaved out of his chimney and scurried away.
-- Corrupted from the RinkWorks feature, Pea Soup for the Cynic's Soul.