Whether you were begging for Life Size Wedding Barbie in Toys R Us, or asking for a sunshine yellow Hummer H3 for your sweet sixteen, we’ve all heard our parents say: “Whadduhya think, I’m made of money?!”  Somewhat ironically, The Gabbler finally met the Man Made of Money yesterday in the clearance section of Marshalls, and persuaded him to sit down with us for a brief interview. We expected to tell about his stress-free, high-rolling lifestyle – only to find that he’s actually quite frugal, out of sheer necessity.

The Gabbler: Man Made of Money, this is so exciting! You must have the best life ever. I mean, I get that life isn’t all about money or whatever, but a new BMW definitely doesn’t hurt, know what I mean? And God, to never have to work and worry about money?! It’s pretty much smooth sailing, right man?

Man Made of Money: Listen, can you not call me that so loudly? And actually, I drive a ’96 Buick.

G: Ha!

MMOM: No, I’m serious. By the way, do you have any more of those little creamers?

G: Sure. How many do you take in your coffee?

MMOM: I’ll take all of them.

G: Wow, that’s a lot of cream, dude.

MMOM: Oh, I save them. Milk products are so expensive these days!

G: Okay, I get it.  You’re lying low. Keeping a low profile. I get that! Cruising around in the Buick, saving creamers. I bet your mansion is way out in the middle of some gorgeous deserted island, right?

MMOM: No, it’s not like that. I just can’t spend a lot.

G: But you’re made of money!

MMOM: Exactly. If you had to sell your hand for a car, would you do it?

 G: Of course not.

MMOM: Well, that’s why I bought a Buick. I wasn’t about to rip off my own hand for that. It’s just a car.

G: Wait – so you are literally composed of money? I thought that you’d just tattooed yourself green or something. Maybe you were going for an Avatar look? I hear that super rich people don’t know what to do with their money and end up doing crazy stuff like that!

MMOM: Yes, I am physically made out of money. As a result, I spend as little as possible – unsurprisingly. Plus, those Avatars were blue.

G: So, if you pull at your skin….

MMOM: I could rip off a few dollar bills, yeah.

G: Wow! May I?

MMOM: No! Asshole. Does peeling off a layer of skin to give a perfect stranger a measly dollar bill sound like something I’d volunteer to do?

G: Sorry, didn’t think about that. Gosh, that really makes you think twice before buying that designer handbag, huh?

MMOM: It does indeed. By the way, do you have any more of those bagels?

G: Uh, yeah. I’ll have them bring some more out. Question: how do you afford things if you can’t actually spend the money that you’re made of?

MMOM: Well, I get by on very little. When my hair falls out, I can get a few bucks here and there. Also – and this is going to sound a little gross – but my excrement is also, uh, composed of money.

G: DUDE! You literally shit gold?

MMOM: Well, I feel a little uncomfortable discussing the composition of my fecal matter with you, but since you ask, no, actually, mostly pennies. Which is why I really scrimp and save.  I waste nothing.

G: Not even your own waste! (Drum roll, please!)

MMOM: Very funny.

G: Why don’t you just get a job?

MMOM: I tried, and for a while, everyone hired me because they assumed that I was so successful that I’d make their company a ton of money. But they all refused to actually pay me because they seemed to believe that being made of money meant that I was already very rich. Plus, everywhere I went, my coworkers either harassed me, or just attacked me. I couldn’t take it. I was either fired or chased out of every job I’ve ever had.

G: So then what did you do?

MMOM: I was desperate. I signed up for welfare. Of course, I was rejected six times because of my condition, so I had to meet with them in person for several interviews before they believed that I was actually destitute. I get it, though. Man Made of Money on welfare is more than a little absurd.

G: How do people interact when they first meet you?

MMOM: It takes them a few minutes to realize what I am, but when they do, it’s pretty horrific. I nearly got my leg taken off recently – by a woman. I get that being a single mother is rough, but still!

G: How’s dating for you?

MMOM: Well, I have no trouble getting dates, because again, women assume I’m incredibly wealthy. And even when I take them out for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they still seem to think I’m playing coy and testing them. But when I finally make them understand that I can’t spend my money, they usually just call me a “cheap green weirdo” or say, “This is worse than inflation!” and storm out. But I’m trying to stay positive.  I signed up for a free trial of recently and I’ve been talking with a nice woman who seems to be okay with my situation. We meet in person this Friday. Wish me luck!

G: That’s great news! Good luck! So, how do you protect yourself?

MMOM: It takes me a long time to trust anyone, honestly. I have very few friends, no close family. My own father took four of my toes when I was a kid to buy a fucking motorcycle. My mom was at her book club that night.

G: Well, you don’t really need your toes, do you?

MMOM: My balance is shit and I can’t wear sandals, but otherwise, I’m okay now.

G: Okay, I just thought of something! What about your tailbone? And appendix?! Vestigial structures? You don’t even NEED them!

MMOM: Oh, my parents removed those, first thing. I was about three at the time. But then the doctor tried to pilfer my left butt cheek, so my mom decided that we couldn’t trust doctors with a kid made of money passed out cold on the operating table anymore.

G: But how can people just take parts of your body like that?

MMOM: I mean, they get desperate. Think about it: mortgage payments, high college loans with spiked interest rates, credit card bills, the cost of food rising. Simply having more money seems to be the easiest solution. And then I walk by, literally dripping bills from my fingertips. It’s certainly tempting.

G: Wow. This really gives new meaning to costing an arm and a leg, huh?

MMOM: Ha! I’m pretty sure that phrase was coined by me back when I debated over whether to actually go to college in the US. Also, are you gonna eat that?


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