Tobias was an expensive mentor who played the tables in Las Vegas. He loved the game of holding, folding, and insulting. “I was born for the part,” he would say every time he pulled up his tighty whities.
He understood early in life that you win by victimizing people, which is a form of stealing power from other people. It’s a perfect theft as he could not get arrested for cruel intentions as it all operates in the thought realm known as higher dimensions. He was a shaman, but not the kind of shaman you want touching you. He created more pain, generally through verbal abuse during his webinars. He was caustic, rude, bombastic, but free to rule in his tiny world because he was operating outside of 3D rules. And his world was tiny. If you could bitch slap him into his next lifetime, it would be a wise choice.
As the narrator, I must tell you the truth. He was the kind of guy who found you on Facebook through an advertisement. You were feeling weak and doubtful after a recent breakup. You clicked his ad, watched his webinar, and then paid $5000 for “Lipstick Legend,” which was a live event for women who desired desirability without creating undesirability. He seemed to understand the logic of mania.
In truth, he was a con artist. He claimed to be a spiritual guru named Kuthumi, but he couldn’t bother to be loyal to a hermit crab let alone a soul mate. He piled his used underwear on his pillowcase hoping housekeeping would return them clean the next day. This man-boy did not know the difference between a washer, humidifier, and a Sodastream; they all seemed viable options for cleaning crust off underwear, if he could just get housekeeping to do their job!
Tobias was good at stealing energy and dollars, that is, until SHE came along. This woman didn’t take kindly to his behavior and swore to run him out of town if it was the last thing she ever did. He was a ruthless cowboy who needed to be taught a lesson as he had pushed the buttons of her velveteen Lucille Walking Suit one too many times.
She stepped into his matrix of balding hair, false claims of profitability, and canvas double breasted vest outfit finished off by poop-laden cowboy boots to ask one question, “How did your boots get so tarnished, oh special one?”
“I’m elegant! I’m astoundingly beautiful! Women fall at my feet! ” he said.
“Do they fall at your feet to pick up money that you grabbed from their wallet while they were signaling a taxi that fell to the ground that was needed to pay for their own taxi fair?” she asked.
“I am hot!” he protested. “They want me. Not Arnold Schwarzenegger. Not Brad Pitt. Not Bill Gates. Me!”
“I disagree,” she said, ever confident but never arrogant.
“You’re a failure!”
“I am a mirror of you. That which you project onto me is a statement of yourself,” she answered while brushing the fly off her lovely velveteen dress.
“Is that all you have to say?” he said so matter-of-fact.
“Your boots are stinky,” she answered. “You might want to invest in a hedgehog foot brush.”
“I live in the wild west. I do not brush off my boots! I do not apologize! And I do not brush my teeth!”
“Yes, I have noticed. Try better,” she answered.
“I will defame you. It’s what I do best,” he threatened.
“Yes, I am aware. However, I have one thing up on you. You had a walk-in. I’m taking back what is mine.” She spoke a command that he could not understand. Within minutes, the walk-in of power stepped out of his field and stepped back into the female gunslinger in the velveteen dress.
When the velveteen gunslinger dismantled his power, he asked, “How did you do it?”
She said, “Greed creates doubt. Guess what? I’m Kuthumi, not you. Enjoy your karma.”
And that is the story of the Manic Mentor who Played the Vegas Tables but Lost to a Female Gunslinger.
End of Story
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