Okay, so you lost the house in a freak gambling accident for the third time in your life. Time to fake your death and find another rich woman to marry so she can bankroll your gambling habit that got you into this situation in the first place. It’s fine, though – you’ll win it all back when you finally hit that hot streak that has been overdue for a decade (and you can pay back all your ex-wives whose lives you’ve ruined). Sure, it’s hard to start all over again and forge a new life, but you have done it twice already.
Heck, you and the Hungarian mobster who makes your fake identification and birth certificates are on a first-name basis. You haven’t seen Gyorgy in a while anyway, and he’s always good at giving you pep talks when you’re down and out. Nothing like talking to someone whose whole family were casualties in a gang war with the Chechen mob to remind you how good you have it.
You could stop gambling, but then… how else are you going to hit that big score, pay back the millions you already owe, and enjoy yourself while doing it? Getting a job is for suckers. Remember that one time you had a job as a copywriter? Yeah, bad memories….
It feels bad now that you’ve lost your third wife’s trust fund and assets in an illegal jellyfish-fight gambling ring, and now, you are horrifically indebted to the various criminal organizations you convinced to bankroll you on your massive bet on the 60-1 underdog Blorgorgorg against the heavyweight champion of the world Calamari Damacy. Well, surprise! Blorgorgorg was no match for the champ, and the poor jelly went down in the first round. You were out the door before the ref finished the ten count, already planning how you were going to make it look like you perished in a horrific Pumpkin Spice Latte accident. It gets them every time.
On your way to Starbucks to do the deed, you remembered that you left all your gambling stuff in your soon-to-be-widow’s garage. Good thing you have a StorBox unit under one of your old identities where you can store your roulette tables and slot machines. Heck, maybe you can even set up a poker game inside of it once this all blows over. The units are climate-controlled, after all!
But alas, now it is time to dye your hair, shave your beard, buy a fake pair of glasses, and come up with a new identity. Though that is a lot of work (and it is kind of a bummer you lost your spouse’s house and you must fake your own death AGAIN), at least you still have that storage unit to keep your things. Like Gyorgy always says, “Every miracle lasts only three days.” You may have no idea what he’s talking about, but at least you have someone to talk to!