reach past the curb as far down as you can. It’s yucky and kinda cold on the bottom. But Aaron, Aaron, ohhh man, honest— you won’t care.”
It was not his pal’s words that drew Aaron down on his belly so much as it was the earnest eye-roll that accompanied, “you won’t care.” For a few heartbeats, a tiny part of Aaron was afraid; not of Charlie, but of the unexplained, indeed, maybe the unexplainable. Then, reaching into the water so near Charlie’s shins that he could smell the scum on them, Aaron found the bottom. And not just the bottom, but what Charlie’s bare feet had shoved along ON the bottom, which explained everything.
Aaron giggled, thunderstruck. “Oboy,” he murmured, scrabbling about in the muck; “oboyo boyo boyoboy, Charlie, this is it! This is where all the pennies in the world go to die. It’s like the elephant’s graveyard.” As he began to scud a handful of coins up the cement wall he risked a glance around, wary of prying eyes.
Meanwhile Charlie, seeing that no one else had noticed two boys playing at the pond, slowly waded across to the pad with the nickel, then recovered the glider and its penny. There were fewer coins farther out, though the pond was no deeper there. Charlie knew he was losing some through sloppy footwork, but finally could feel that he was herding so many pennies, the sneaky little things were escaping around his toes. He became a more careful prospector now, leaving his new trove near the first one and leaving Aaron to deal with the spoils.
After ten minutes of this Charlie began to tire. Besides, he itched to slide his fingers into riches as Aaron was doing. “Now you,” he said, plopping his rump on the curb, setting the glider aside.
But wealth brings its own problems, and Aaron could not sit up without a struggle. He had filled his pockets lying full length, weighing himself down so much that his pants sagged dangerously below his waist as he scooted to a sitting position. “I can’t go out there. If I fall, I expect I’ll drown,” he said.
“Then get away. There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Lots,” said Aaron, taking a death grip on his pants. Soon, Charlie had taken Aaron’s place while Aaron waddled to the park bench and repositioned the contents of his pockets. Less tidy than his pal, Charlie spent less time rinsing bits of green guck from each palmful of coins with the result that what went into his pockets went in as colorful as a Disney cartoon.
Presently, in part because a few passersby seemed almost ready to ask questions, Charlie took careful note of cracks in the cement and managed to sit up, intending to return for further strip-mining. With a glance toward Aaron: “How you doing?”
“How do I look?” Aaron stood up, holding fast to his belt, and Charlie snickered. Aaron glared back. “Hey, you expect me to bury it someplace?”
“You look like a squirrel,” said Charlie.
“Try standing up and see how you like it,” Aaron countered, sitting down again.
This was easier said than done but, with lumps the size of oranges weighting pockets fore and aft, Charlie joined his pal on the bench. They waited until no spectators were in sight and then, walking like brittle-boned little old men, they made their way to shrubbery far from walkways.
It was Aaron who announced that one of them must empty his pockets and mount an expedition to find suitable containers. While Charlie thought about that, Aaron sighed, piled his coins on the ground between them, stood up to rearrange trousers showing patches of dampness, and said wistfully, “Could I have some of it?”
Charlie, in a gruff offhanded way: “Not much. Only half.”
“You’re keen,” Aaron replied, and set off in a loping shuffle.
Soon Charlie had added his coins to the pile, and discovered a surprising number of nickels, a few dimes, and from some blessed madman, a single authentic, unimpeachable half-dollar coin the size of a milk bottle stopper. Many of the
It was not his pal’s words that drew Aaron down on his belly so much as it was the earnest eye-roll that accompanied, “you won’t care.” For a few heartbeats, a tiny part of Aaron was afraid; not of Charlie, but of the unexplained, indeed, maybe the unexplainable. Then, reaching into the water so near Charlie’s shins that he could smell the scum on them, Aaron found the bottom. And not just the bottom, but what Charlie’s bare feet had shoved along ON the bottom, which explained everything.
Aaron giggled, thunderstruck. “Oboy,” he murmured, scrabbling about in the muck; “oboyo boyo boyoboy, Charlie, this is it! This is where all the pennies in the world go to die. It’s like the elephant’s graveyard.” As he began to scud a handful of coins up the cement wall he risked a glance around, wary of prying eyes.
Meanwhile Charlie, seeing that no one else had noticed two boys playing at the pond, slowly waded across to the pad with the nickel, then recovered the glider and its penny. There were fewer coins farther out, though the pond was no deeper there. Charlie knew he was losing some through sloppy footwork, but finally could feel that he was herding so many pennies, the sneaky little things were escaping around his toes. He became a more careful prospector now, leaving his new trove near the first one and leaving Aaron to deal with the spoils.
After ten minutes of this Charlie began to tire. Besides, he itched to slide his fingers into riches as Aaron was doing. “Now you,” he said, plopping his rump on the curb, setting the glider aside.
But wealth brings its own problems, and Aaron could not sit up without a struggle. He had filled his pockets lying full length, weighing himself down so much that his pants sagged dangerously below his waist as he scooted to a sitting position. “I can’t go out there. If I fall, I expect I’ll drown,” he said.
“Then get away. There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Lots,” said Aaron, taking a death grip on his pants. Soon, Charlie had taken Aaron’s place while Aaron waddled to the park bench and repositioned the contents of his pockets. Less tidy than his pal, Charlie spent less time rinsing bits of green guck from each palmful of coins with the result that what went into his pockets went in as colorful as a Disney cartoon.
Presently, in part because a few passersby seemed almost ready to ask questions, Charlie took careful note of cracks in the cement and managed to sit up, intending to return for further strip-mining. With a glance toward Aaron: “How you doing?”
“How do I look?” Aaron stood up, holding fast to his belt, and Charlie snickered. Aaron glared back. “Hey, you expect me to bury it someplace?”
“You look like a squirrel,” said Charlie.
“Try standing up and see how you like it,” Aaron countered, sitting down again.
This was easier said than done but, with lumps the size of oranges weighting pockets fore and aft, Charlie joined his pal on the bench. They waited until no spectators were in sight and then, walking like brittle-boned little old men, they made their way to shrubbery far from walkways.
It was Aaron who announced that one of them must empty his pockets and mount an expedition to find suitable containers. While Charlie thought about that, Aaron sighed, piled his coins on the ground between them, stood up to rearrange trousers showing patches of dampness, and said wistfully, “Could I have some of it?”
Charlie, in a gruff offhanded way: “Not much. Only half.”
“You’re keen,” Aaron replied, and set off in a loping shuffle.
Soon Charlie had added his coins to the pile, and discovered a surprising number of nickels, a few dimes, and from some blessed madman, a single authentic, unimpeachable half-dollar coin the size of a milk bottle stopper. Many of the
Similar Books
