Found Money Rev 2
Picking it up out of a oily, nasty looking rain puddle, he unfolded a think clump of $100 bills. What kind of joke is this he thought. On the same day his car was repossessed, he finds enough cash to pay it off plus. The sky was ominously dark, and rolling waves of thunder shook the ground under his feet. A bolt of lightning illuminated the figure of a man hunched over near a dumpster down an alley, just past the back door to the bar. He thought about it, not longer than a second or two and kept walking. The seven cocktails he’d downed in the last 2 hours hadn’t put him out, but his comprehension of the world had taken a detour that wouldn’t rejoin the main road until sometime tomorrow afternoon.
He was approaching the diner, the fluorescent lights like a ships beacon on the point. The curved booths embracing young couples in love, and lonely old men. He could see Sally, his favorite waitress in her red checked uniform with the puffy sleeves and a full shirt. She was pouring coffee into the mugs of his friends, who had been loitering there since early afternoon. It’s really quite inspiring he mused drunkenly, bursting into giggles at the pretentious thoughts that the found money were planting in his head. Perhaps I shall, he paused awkwardly as he missed the curb and his left food landed in the middle of a filthy puddle, perhaps I shall make it all up to her tonite, leave a $100 tip on the table when we depart, making up for the hours spent occupying the best table in the joint without leaving a bloody dime. To be continued.
©2010 sharonjcorrigan all rights reserved
He was approaching the diner, the fluorescent lights like a ships beacon on the point. The curved booths embracing young couples in love, and lonely old men. He could see Sally, his favorite waitress in her red checked uniform with the puffy sleeves and a full shirt. She was pouring coffee into the mugs of his friends, who had been loitering there since early afternoon. It’s really quite inspiring he mused drunkenly, bursting into giggles at the pretentious thoughts that the found money were planting in his head. Perhaps I shall, he paused awkwardly as he missed the curb and his left food landed in the middle of a filthy puddle, perhaps I shall make it all up to her tonite, leave a $100 tip on the table when we depart, making up for the hours spent occupying the best table in the joint without leaving a bloody dime. To be continued.
©2010 sharonjcorrigan all rights reserved
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