Wednesday, November 13, 2013

“I need to write your check, Housekeeper.”

“That’d be nice.”

“I know it’s Wednesday, but what day is this?”

“It’s the 13th.”

“The 13th, Hmm. You sure?”

“Yesterday was the 12th. The day before was the 11th.”

“For true?”

“Yup. I spent Sunday in the cemeteries. Veterans Day. “

“You sure?’’


I reached to the top of the Fridge for the coffee pot I use to water the flowers and it felt strangely heavy.

I pulled it down anyhow and found that it had rolled change in it. Which was rather odd. I told Housekeeper what I’d found and she said; “Imagine that. How’d that get there?”

Well, if truth be known, I’d put the change there several months ago to see what Housekeeper would do about it, and now I’d found out – nothing, to include cleaning up there.

“You know;” she went on, not realizing what I’d really been trying to find out, “that hubby has been stealing quarters from me?”

“Can a spouse steal from a spouse?” I asked.

“Well, I have one of those three foot high piggy banks I put my change in and he takes all the quarters to examine for those State Quarters. He puts them in HIS books, you know.”

“Well, yeah, I know about those collectors folders.”

“Yep. That piggy bank, I’ve told him, is my retirement fund.”

“Um. Does he want he take all the change?”

“No. He leaves me the dimes, pennies and nickels – although there’s not many nickels. I plan on retiring when the pig was full.”

“So, he doesn’t want you retiring soon, nor well?”


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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