DT’s Big Flex

 It was a hot afternoon, and Meh was just chillin’ on the couch, eating stale Doritos. Suddenly, the front door flew open — DT walked in wearing shades indoors, gold chains, and holding a giant Slurpee.

“Yo Meh,” DT said, sipping loud. “We outta level up today.”

Meh squinted. “Level up how? Like, XP points? Or my fridge snacks?”

DT smirked. “Nah, bro. We finna flex harder than Gerald’s haircut last Tuesday.”

Just then, Gerald popped in from the window. “HEY! My haircut cost $5 and a lollipop, don’t disrespect.”

DT ignored him. He pulled out a shiny briefcase, slammed it on the table, and opened it. Inside was…

…nothing. Completely empty.

Meh blinked. “Uhh. DT. There’s literally air in here.”

“That’s the point,” DT said. “We selling premium AIR. Exclusive, limited edition, DT-certified, breathe-once-get-richer air.”

Gerald scratched his head. “Bro… who gon’ buy AIR?”

DT pulled out his phone, called one number, and within minutes, a line of people wrapped around the block, all holding cash.

“Only DT could sell nothing and make a million,” Meh whispered.

By the end of the day, DT had stacks of bills taller than Gerald. He took one bite of Meh’s stale Dorito, threw the rest out the window, and declared:

“Lesson of the day: Don’t chase money. Make money chase YOU.”

Meh nodded. Gerald tried to nod too, but his head got stuck in the Dorito bag.