It was a beautiful day. Bright sunshine filled the blue skies, its warmth soaking these old bones and making this rare February day as nice as any ever seen in May. Driving my old Dodge Dakota with
the window down, the breeze blowing through my hair, took me back many years. I could almost
hear a younger man singing as if on his way to meet the woman of his dreams.
Rattling down the road, the Dodge isn't much to look at these days. The windshield is cracked
from abrupt contact with too many rocks kicked up by bigger, newer vehicles. Peeling clear coat gives the appearance of a green snake shedding its skin. The radio antenna,missing the nut to hold it in place, flops around in the mounting hole, unable to catch the radio waves and convert them to song. I keep telling myself I could go to a junkyard and find that nut. I really could. Still,who wants to waste that much time on a truck that could die at any moment. I'm very protective of my time.
Like the old Dodge, I'm very much aware my days on this earth are finite. You can't work in the
medical field as long as I have and not notice death mocking you in the mirror. A wrinkle here and there. A little more bulge in the belly. And the hair, don't get me started on the hair. When you're willing to accept any amount of gray in your hair, as long as you can keep your hair, you'll know what I mean. I sometimes don't laugh as much anymore. Let's just say my joking days are pretty much done.
So after a quick lunch of pizza and salad with my beautiful wife and my son, who's also a partner at Loredagger, I headed to the credit union to pick up a few dollars to get me through the weekend. I didn't need much money, just enough to pay off some weekend obligations. The lines were short that
day. I suppose everyone else, like me, wanted to get back into the outdoors and that wonderful sunshine as soon as possible. The teller and her fellows were pleasant as they dispensed the greenbacks. Not seeing anyone new to invite to visit www.loredagger.com, I headed to the door.
Hitting the sunshine, I glanced at the account balance. Hitting me like a green shower were more
dollars than had ever rained upon the hills of Loredagger. Shower, my foot, it was a virtual flood of money.
Now anyone who knows me well will tell you old Wiley likes the coin of the realm. I'm not a miser, mind you. I get the bucks and I spend them as well as I can. But my mind was racing, not
believing the massive numbers rolling off the slip of paper clutched tightly in my greedy little
hands and into my eyeballs. I dialed up Colt. Well, there's my old man references going again.
I punched Colt's numbers into the phone and waited. A new Subaru might be nice. Remodeling
the house could be a possibility. No wine, women and song. I've got my baby and I hate booze.
Well, maybe a little song would be ok. I wondered if Lobo could be hired for a weekend concert?
"Colt, this is your dad and the eldest of the Loredagger Three. Listen to me son, I'm not kidding.
There's more money in the Loredagger account than Varg could carry around on his best day. I'm talking about enough cash to make Von into a spendthrift. There's enough money there to blow even my greedy little mind. I think the Asian market must have finally cracked wide open. Bless those Asian cosplay girls. Not only are they beautiful, but they have great literary tastes."
"I can't remember the account password. I'll call you back. If this is a joke, just remember who
gets to pick out your nursing home." Click. There was no actual click. More of an electronic bloop.
I just keep remembering when phones clicked.
Fifteen minutes or so later, burr, bomp bomp. Burr, bomp bomp. Aren't modern ringtones wonderful? "Hello."
"I'm sorry Dad. Money from elsewhere was transferred into the Loredagger account by mistake. Stan discovered the error. The money has already been transferred back to the rightful owner."
Now I don't remember everything I said after that. Call it old age, call it selective memory. Let's
just say I used a word or two I shouldn't have before hitting the delete button. "That's ok son. We
aren't rich, but we're no worse off than we were."
"Sure. All we need to do is put our noses to the grindstone, work harder, advertise more and we'll
get there some day. The Asian market will discover the Wanderers someday."
"So what were you going to buy first, son?"
"Nothing. I was quitting my job as soon as I got my cut." I could hear a small sigh in the background. "But only when I had cash in hand, or in wheelbarrow in this case."
"What about Stan?"
"He was going to Japan to personally thank all the cosplay girls. And buy a new katana."
The sun was just as warm on the way home and the breeze still as refreshing as before. My wife's
kisses are just as sweet. I can enjoy the ruckus and laughter of my wild trio of grandchildren. Yet,
somehow, I think I was given my fifteen minutes of fame for a reason. Maybe it was to let me
taste the victory of making Loredagger a success as if I won't be around for the real thing. Maybe
it was a practical joke from someone who wanted to test me. Either way, it was a fun fifteen
minutes and I did get this great blog subject. Too bad I couldn't keep the money.