Hick Isn't Half the Five-Dollar Daughter That Val Was

Going through the swag of his latest storage unit acquisition, Hick found more money. Not a big jar of coins (from which I have already purchased over $40 in assorted denominations, for exact change to get my daily 44 oz Diet Coke), but paper money.

Okay. The Truth in Blogging Law requires me to reveal that Hick found a single bill. Technically, it was less than a single bill.

"Take this to the bank for me. They'll give you another one."

"I don't think so."

"Yeah they will."

"I thought you had to have more than half."

Because what a sweet deal THAT would be! Tearing all your bills in half and taking the pieces to assorted banks to double your money!

"I found it in the storage unit. It ain't gonna hurt to ask."

"Well. No. It won't hurt YOU. I'm the one asking. I bet they won't give me a five. This looks like less than half."

"If they do fine, and if not fine."

"Okay...I'm the one who'll look like a pauper."

"No."

Now what was THAT supposed to mean? That I wouldn't be the one? Or that I wouldn't look like a pauper? Because obviously, I was the person taking that scrap of scrip into the bank. And somebody with money to burn wouldn't be trying to get five dollars for something that should go in the wastebasket.

When I stepped up to the teller, she looked unsure.

"My husband found this in a storage unit, and said you'd give me a new one for it. I told him I didn't think so." Just to show her, you know, that I wasn't a beggar, jonesin' for a fiver to buy a scratcher, or HEROIN.

She asked the teller working the drive-thru window. "Can we give a five for just a part of one?"

"It has to show all the numbers..."

Aha! I KNEW that the entire serial number was on there--

"...on both sides."

Well. So much for that.

I brought that scrap back home so Hick can keep it as a souvenir to remember his 19th storage unit.