I got a financial advisor.

He tells me to buy, so I buy.
He tells me to sell, so I sell.

Works out pretty nice.

Then, he tells me to meet him at the diner at midnight.

So, I meet him.

He slides a gun across the table.

He tells me to kill the priest who molested him as a child.

I say no.

He slides a stack of bills across the table.

“I'm here to make you money,” he says. “Go on. Take it.”

I slide it back.

“Invest it for me,” I say, and I take the gun.

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