West Fire Grass drew his hand back, picked up a fork, and tapped it on the table to gather everyone's attention.
"This lousy thing called money, when it's hard to earn, it's damn hard to get fat too. When you're poor, you wish you could spend one dollar like two. But as long as you find the right path and add a little courage, pal, that can make more than you earn running a printer at home."
As soon as money was mentioned, the agents stopped eating, staring at West Fire Grass with burning eyes, wishing they could melt this golden Buddha.
Eighty thousand — what does that even mean?
The money they've earned in their lifetime combined doesn't add up to this.
"I haven't got any other hobbies, just love making money. What's the use in just admiring those wealthy people? We've got to take action ourselves, make ourselves richer than them!
