Part I

A man walked through the desert. He was alone, accompanied only by a gila monster that seemed to be going the same place he was. He wore a suit. Armani. Black jacket and red tie. His daughter bought him this tie for fathers day. She was four. He carried his briefcase just below his $1200 gold watch. His right hand tucked firmly in his pocket (it was the only place to avoid the blistering sun). The same sun, which very audibly signaled that it was near high noon. The man past a small cactus. Funny, he didn't notice anything resembling life in the distance. But here was his own little ecosystem. The cactus, the gila, and himself. He looked behind him. His footprints told the story of his past. Thousands of steps. Thousands of lonely steps. Inevitably, they led back to his abandoned car. A car he wished not return to. The man reflected on his actions, then hanging his head, turned and continued his path. The gila monster scurried ahead a few steps and turned and sat directly in the man's path, looking up into the sun. The man stepped over the reptile, continuing his journey. The monster ran ahead again, stopping, sitting, and looking up. It wasn't the sun that caught the animal's eye, it was the man. He stopped.

"Why do you stare at me?" the man asked the simple creature.

The gila monster refused to speak, opting only to stare directly into the man's eyes. The man shook his head in frustration, stepping once again over the small gila, and continuing his path. The gila watched in silence as the man walked away, then, realizing the loneliness of being left behind, he quickly joined the man's side once again.
Soon, the man began to feel the effects of dehydration and decided to take a quick breather. He had, after all, been walking for days, without break. He stopped at the top of a dune and sat down. The gila covered himself with sand and sat with only his eyes protruding from the desert floor. The man set his briefcase on the dune and opened it. Inside was everything that was important to him. To the left, sat a stack of $100 bills, all together totaling $26,400. Next to that, an investment portfolio, indicating that not one of the man's stocks were on the decline. Underneath the portfolio sat a cash flow statement which outlined the incredible success the firm had had under the man's supervision. In the bottom corner lay a keychain with only three keys which were inscribed, respectively, with the brand names BMW, Hummer, and Mercedes-Benz. A fourth key, uninscribed, lay conspicuously apart from the keychain near the cash. Underneath it all lay a newspaper clipping proclaiming the takeover of the firm by the man and exclaiming that things were about to change. Things did change. Beneath the clipping was a letter. The letter was unopened and the man didn't intend to open it now.
The man carefully pulled two $100 bills from the stack. He closed the briefcase and set the two banknotes atop the case. He pulled from his pocket a fork and knife and cut the bills into pieces. One by one, he consumed the slices, leaving not a crumb on his makeshift dish.