When I returned home to the upstairs apartment of a house where I was living, I was surprised to find Vaughn, Lynn (a Waco attorney) and Mr. Woods (a legal client) sitting in my apartment. I sat down to talk with them. I didn't know why they were there, but I thought Vaughn and Lynn were probably upset because I hadn't yet sold the two houses in Marshall, Texas and Greenville, Texas which I had bought with their money. But they didn't seem to be angry with me. I told Vaughn I was very sorry I hadn't been able to do anything with the houses yet and he indicated I should spend a little more time trying to sell them. I thought I probably should do as he suggested so I wouldn't have to worry about them anymore.
I was happy they had come to visit me and I was interested in what they had been doing lately. I knew all three were interested in making lots of money. At one point Lynn said he was anxious to get back to Waco so he could make millions and millions. I told them I didn't understand why a person should need to make millions and millions and I added, "If a person just had one million dollars he would have enough to live on for the rest of his life without having to work by using money as an incentive."
I realized a man needed to do something with his life; but I was simply making the statement that money wouldn't need to be the incentive for work. A person could have the incentive of doing good for other people in the community, for example.
But I could tell they were all deeply entrenched in the idea of making money simply for the sake and power of money itself. Although they understood what I was saying, none of them agreed with me. They were all convinced that being multi-millionaires was an end in and of itself for which they should strive.
I asked them how they had been able to enter my apartment and I learned that they apparently had acquired a key from the person who owned the building. The apartment was quite neat. I had cleaned it up that day right before I had left and I was glad I had done so, because some days it was messy. I had, however, left some clothes on the floor; but apparently someone had picked them up and tossed them to the side.
A boy walked in who had a large tortoise—around two-thirds of a meter in diameter—and showed it to us. We all looked at it and I thought it was very nice. I noticed my father was also in the room. Finally, the boy took the tortoise back outside.
At last I went into the bathroom to take a bath and when I returned everyone had left. I decided I would like to go outside look again at the boy's tortoise. I thought of the possibility of using its shell for something.
I went out and found the boy with the tortoise lying on its back. The boy said it was useless now because my father had killed it. I turned the tortoise over onto its stomach and saw that my father had slashed the tortoise's shell down the middle of its back so that its guts were hanging out of the shell. He had also cut off part of its feet.
I was extremely disgusted by what my father had done. Apparently, he had waited until I had gone into the shower and then had snuck outside and committed the heinous act. I didn't know why he had done it—apparently he simply disliked tortoises.
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