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A Who Gets a Clue

A young Who in Whoville was feeling quite down
He moped and he moped and he moped around town
He moped until in an old tavern he found
A wealthy old Who who was buying a round.

He sat by the bar, ordered drink and a chaser
The wealthier Who asked him, “Why the long face, sir”
And then did that sad Who look at him sadly
“I need lots of money, I need it quite badly!

My medical bills come to such an amount
I grow even sicker each time that I count
I need need a new Huvulu hovering car
So I can make sales, for I travel quite far

My mother is aging, my daughter needs clothes
My wife needs her hobbyist tools, so it goes
I’ve built up my debts in attempt to make due
So my life is quite hard, but sir, tell me of you.”

That affluent Who sat himself rather tall
He cleared his old throat and began with a drawl
“I’m Finneas Flavius Finkle the Fourth
Son of the Mogul Sir Finkle of Gorth

I’m visiting now to review my investments
To see which will fail, and see which are destined
To 10X my money, and those I will choose
To spend some more on, the others, set loose.”

Now this caught the ear of the sadder of two
For never before did he meet such a Who.
“For handouts I’d never request on a whim
But Finneas, sir, my outlook’s quite grim

I have a small savings, enough for a month
A greater amount I used to have once
But now it is spent, the rainy day’s here
Sir how should I spend it, would you please share?”

That Finneas smiled at the sad Who so kindly
“What is it you do, sir, would you remind me?”
That sad Who, he answered, with minor chagrin
“I sell door to door, needles and pins”

“That market’s no good,” said the wealthier fellow
“To it say goodbye, to others say hello
You best look around, pins and needles are dead
When everyone has them, well now they need thread!”

This marveled the Who to hear oh so wisely
“Oh thank you, good sir, for what you advise me!”
And so he ran home and took all his cash
And ran to the Thread store, he ran with a dash

He bought all the thread that he could at the time
He bought every spool with his very last dime.
Well sure enough soon as he made his investment
Another who walked in with tears in this vestments

“Sorry to run in here making a racket
I’ve holes in my socks, in my pants, and my jacket
Please sell me your thread so my clothes I’ll repair
I’ll buy it then I’ll get out of your hair”

Well now the sad Who had no sign of his sadness
But now he was filled with threadly fueled madness
“This store has no thread left” He said to the guy
But I think I could find some, I think I could try.”

“Oh please” said the Who, in his torn apart coat
“I leave in an hour and travel by boat
I must look my best for a meeting is soon
And if I can impress it will mean quite the boon!”

“And what could you pay” said Who 1 with a smile
“Well, all that I have” said Who 2 in a while
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a spool
And made all of his money back on that poor fool!

The Threadman behind his old counter amazed
Immediately ran to his phone in a craze
“Order me thread, for the price has now soared
Get all the thread that the shop can afford!”

Back at his home was a Who feeling glad
With all of his savings and thread that he had
He surely would soon be a millionaire
Living in luxury without a care

The next day he went to buy even more thread
But the prices were risen by 10 to his dread
He didn’t know if he could afford the price
But he bought 10 more spools. He bought 10 more spools thrice!

Now that old Threadman feeling quite keen
Has more money than his thread shop’s ever has seen
Soon was the word that thread was the thing
That money and riches and power, would bring

Soon every Who down in Whoville had spools
They had spindles and reams, they had needle point tools
Thread fever attacked and it did with a heat
Buying and selling and trading elites

Every color had its own unique market
Prices would rise and would fall right on target
And wasn’t that first Who once felt so small
Well now he’s the richest Who here of them all!

His car was a beauty, his daughter was dressed
His wife lived in leisure, no sign of distress
He quit his old job and now lived in a mansion
With rooms filled with thread, so he built an expansion

For months this continued but soon there was trouble
This wasn’t a market, no sir, but a bubble!
Soon thread speculation proved out a disaster
The price of thread fell, well and then it fell faster!

The Whos they all panicked, the rich and the rabble
They built their whole town as a Tower of Babel
And down fell the bricks, fell every last one
Until poverty struck, now Whoville was done

One day came the mogul, his venture to cash
The only non-thread based new business, the last
He sold it and closed it and nearly left town
When he saw his old friend, and again he was down

“Seems like your town’s in the midst of recession
You ought to spend wisely instead of just guessin
Well now all the money is vapor, you see
Well maybe for you, but just not for me

You see while your city’s a ghost town, quite dead
I owned all the factories spinning the thread
I closed them as soon as the price rose too high
Knowing a bubbly busting was nigh.”

“How could you lead us into this position
Surely you saw this, you surely envisioned
Once I was poor and that was enough
But to be rich, then poor, well sir that’s quite tough!”

“Now sir,” said the Who of a wealthier sort
“It’s you who spent all of your cash,” with a snort
“I told you, quite wisely, to trade in some spools
But you sir went all in like a blind bumbling fool”

With that the Who left, and Whoville was alone
With the worthlessest thread, all money now blown
Now if ever a deal seems to good to be true
Well it probably is, don’t get strung along, too!