The money should come off trees and the plane tickets should fall from the sky. They would come down and shake the branches of the trees that hold the money and shake all those dollar dollar bills onto the freshly mown grass. And those notes would lay there nestled in the cuttings, because even though there’s sticky warm breeze, it’s not enough to ruffle the notes which fell so gently. An overcast sky to make the grass glow and the blades show. Laying on the moist clippings before they are snatched into greasy voracious hands. The eager fingers coordinate themselves to caress those lithe papers more tenderly than any lover. It would be a shameless frenzy of ferocious greed. A display of the parsimonious people.