Articles / Essays
contact me

Check out Uncle Jerry's Blog

Molly and the Geezer

Molly and the Geezer
and the Death of Grandma Claire

Michael Spooner

A joyful look at the highest of human values: greed, double-crossing, poor parenting, love, spite, and come-uppance!!

Copyright 2012 Michael Spooner

All rights reserved. Feel free to share a link to these pages,
but do not copy the text, print, or re-post it on any other
site, personal or public.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters herein
to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.


“Shred this one.”


“Wait. Look at it first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know what it is.”

“And this one’s an auto-pay. Put it in the computer, but don’t write a check. See here in the corner, where it says ‘automatic payment’? You ask me, they really need a better document design.“


“Hey. Did you write that paper for school?”

“Yeah yeah. Why Minnesota should get one more representative in Congress. Woo-hoo. Hey, Rhinehart?”

“Shred pile. What?”

“Do you think the aunts and uncles will be all right? They’ve got a lot of bills. All of them do.”

“They got 75,000 dollars each to cover their current problems. What they owe or don’t owe later is none of our business.”

“It’s so weird thinking of Aunt Sonia living in Costa Rica.”

“Keep them piles separate, now.”

“Yes, Rhinehart.”

“Well, one thing’s sure.”

“What’s that?”

“Somewhere in Costa Rica there’s a very frightened dude named Ricardo.”

“I’m glad for St. Ignatius. The look on Mother Elaine’s face alone was worth two million dollars.”

“Not a religious person, myself.”

“No, you’re a heathen reprobate. That’s why you’re over there all the time fixing the gates and pipes and truck and roof and everything.”

“Maybe I got a crush on one of them nuns.”

“Maybe you’re looking for an orphan to adopt.”

“Maybe I am.”

“. . . Rhinehart?”


“Well, don’t take this wrong, but . . .”

“I know. Why am I always crabby as a badger.”

“No. But, like, you’re not going to last forever, are you?”

“Odds are against it. Why?”

“Well, what happens to me then?”

“Whatever you want. You’re filthy rich, kiddo.”

“How do you figure? All I have is this house, and I’m never ever going to sell it.”

“Didn’t say you should.”

“Well, how do I get by without you? I’m still a kid, you know.”

“I taught you how to drive, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but the law would frown on it till I’m old enough for an actual license.”

“You worry too much.”

“Rhinehart, get real. If you die of some dread disease from not changing your underwear, how will I pay these bills? How will I pay for college, how will I live? Stuff like that.”

“Good questions. I’m glad you’re thinking about the future.”


“Well, you finish high school. That’s the first thing. Then you get a job. You already know how to use a checkbook. So that’s that.”

“Great. Very helpful.”

“Pay this one . . .”

“It’s an auto-pay.”

“I knew that. Just testing you.”


“OK, look. If something happens to me, I’ve got you down in my estate for a little cash to tide you over till you can get on your feet.”


“And there’s the college fund you can raid if you need to. You talk to Jackie; she’ll tell you how to do stuff. But hey, your grandma’s will says you got more than the house—you got everything in it, too.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well, duh. When you’re ready, you go to the big museum in The Cities, and you em sell the Shaggle.”

“ChaGALL, Rhinehart. Why sell that?”

“Mostly because it’s ugly. Plus, it will fetch about 100 thousand.”

“No way.”

“Look in the safe. In the files under ‘Appraisals’.”


“That should cover about six years of college for you, in case you flunk a few courses.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Next, sell that old Lewis and Clark book. History is not your best subject.”

“How much?”

“I’m thinking 350 grand.”

“Rhinehart, how do you know all this stuff?! You never tell me anything!”

“Then the coin collection. There’s some rare pieces in there.”

“Let me think. A 1943 penny?”

“And some even better.”

“Hmm. . . . Well. Okay, I’ll try not to worry. . . . Not that I want you to croak anytime soon.”

“’Preciate that.”

“No problem. . . . I’ve always sorta liked you.”

“You, too, hon. . . . This goes in the shred pile.”

“So I’m rich, eh? That’s all right, then.”

“Just don’t get a big head about it. And keep your lip buttoned.

“Right. Is there a list of all this stuff?”

“Check in the safe.”

“Should have figured.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

The End