Showing up to the strip club with only 40 bucks. You're not expecting much, but you park your car and walk inside anyway.
You see Billy Buckeye at the bar; he's going to drop a G tonight. And Larry Longhorn just got done writing his final check for alimony; he might part with $1,500 or so. But you and your paltry 40 bucks order a Diet Pepsi and take a seat.
An adventurous stripper - stage name Priscilla - senses you're impoverished and figures, "Ah, what the hell?" She grabs you by the hand and takes you to the backroom figuring she'll show you, Peter Panther, a good night anyway.
Things start to progress: a Washington here, a Lincoln there. Not in your wildest dreams would you have expected to get to this point tonight. Wow, what a fantastic experience!
But then Priscilla's friend, Lexie, pops her head in the room. "Hey, baby; guess who just showed up. Dick Duck!"
Dick Duck is known as the highest of rollers around these parts. Priscilla simply can't afford to play charity ball with you anymore. She buttons up immediately. Hell, she even throws on a sweater she didn't wear *into* the room. That's correct: she is leaving with more clothes on than she actually walked into the room wearing. And the only thing left in your pocket - those cheap Wranglers you bought used and unwashed at a yardsale - is a ketchup packet you took from Wendy's a few days ago (even though you didn't even order fries, you pathetic cheapskate).
It's time to drive home now. You can't even afford to stop at Sheetz to buy a muffin to help soak up the carbonation from the Pepsi. Back to your wife you go. Yep, back to Tammy Toledo. She's a real Rocket alright. At least she kind of makes you want to attach yourself to one, prior to it blasting off for the moon.
Hopefully the big fish get tired of showing up to the strip club with paperboy money. Guess we'll know what's happening with our NIL collective in these next few weeks.