Once there was a man named Franky Baldwin. He was cruel to everyone and everything he ever knew, from the age of one to 27. At the age of 20, he won the lottery after cheating his town out of their tax dollars. The first thing he did was build a large house next to his local Elementary school. Every day for the next five years he would yell at the children and throw cigarette butts onto their playground. At the age of 25, he took a trip around the world for a year and a half participating in illegal oil trades from Brazil to India. At the Age of 26, he started Baldwin Industries — a factory corporation spanning across the country. Hundreds of thousands of gallons of oil was released into rivers and oceans, killing thousands of sea creatures. Of course Franky knew of this; in fact, he laughed every time someone brought it up. At the age of 27 he started Baldwin Eats, a posh fine dining restaurant. On opening night, he went alone. He demanded a fresh fried fish. After ordering, he spat in the waiter’s face. “AND STAT,” he yelled. After eight minutes without his food, he marched up to the kitchen, kicked the door down, walked up to the chef and slapped him across the face. “I SAID STAT! IT HAS BEEN 30 MINUTES SINCE I HAVE ORDERED, AND NO FISH. MIGHT AS WELL GET ONE FROM THE HARBOR MYSELF!” he yelled. He walked right out of the restaurant, and up to the harbor. He plunged his hand in the water, pulling up a brown, scaly fish, he held it tight as it flopped around in his hand. As he made his way back into the restaurant’s kitchen, he threw the fish in the chef’s face and yelled, “FRY THIS.” Five minutes later, the chef, with a red hand mark on the right side of his face, walked out with Franky’s fish and a side of steamed asparagus. “This better be the best fish I’ve had in my life, or you’re fired!” Franky said. Franky took his fork and bit into the fish. Within seconds of his bite he began to turn a grayish purple, and the chef began to panic. Franky started to gasp, and then fell over in his chair. The ambulance was called, and it was official – Franky had died. The irony was, it was his oil that intoxicated the fish he impatiently decided to eat that killed him. Even with all the money in the world, Franky would never change. In fact, it would be the death of him.
I am in fear
