The site that hosts my blog offers ideas to keep those of us who are running out of silly stories to tell to give us things to write about. I’ve never participated, but I decided to do so this time.
Here’s this week’s:
Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?
This is a fine daily prompt assignment for me because there was a very good chance that I was going to have to dig through the car for some loose change anyway. I only have a single dollar bill in my wallet, and it costs $2 to ride the Honkey Bus in the morning and I plan to do just that.
I cheated a little to do this.
The first coin I found was in the cup holder. Well, it was in the slot where the rubberized cup holder should be but is probably somewhere beneath one of the seats instead. It was obviously a penny, but the date was less obvious.
The other side of this coin is where the date can be found, yes, but it’s in much worse shape than this side and is hardly recognizable as a penny. It’s possible that it’s been there for years, so layers of spilled coffee, sweet tea, orange juice, beer, kool aid, pedialyte, tears and Lord knows what else have taken their toll on this poor coin’s head side, but I immediately noticed another coin right behind the console, on the floor of the Xterra.
A nickel! Perfect for the bus fare pile, but not so useful for the Daily Prompt project. This here nickel is a 1964 model and I’m a child who entered this world in the 70’s. My parents were barely teenagers in 1964, so this coin was useless as well.
It’s cold outside here in Missouri and I had no shoes on, so I decided to quit rooting through the car and went back inside to find one last coin.
It only took a second to notice a quarter underneath the kitchen table, right where it belongs. Aaahah, this one was printed when I was alive and had some years under my belt, so it was perfect. Plus a quarter is ideal bus coinage so, two birds, one stone, right?
The first thing that comes to my mind, for whatever reason, is that my beloved St. Louis Cardinals were in the World Series that year. Further brow furrowing thought reminds me that they lost to the Twins though, so that sort of sucks to recollect.
I was 13 going on 14 in 1987. My public school days would come to an end as I was accepted to a local private high school that I really knew nothing about.
I’d graduate 8th grade and have a great summer meeting new people who’d become my high school pals, almost all of whom I don’t talk to outside of Facebook nowadays.
The high school hosted a sports camp for fall athletes so I met many of my future soccer teammates during this camp.
The camp was fairly dull, so one day several of us ditched it and took a bus to the Galleria Mall in Brentwood. Or did we go to Crestwood Mall? I think it was Crestwood now that I think about it. The Galleria would have made more sense though, since it was closer.
Anyway, one of the dipshits we were with decided that it would be cool to shoplift of all things, colored underpants and weight lifting gloves. So these are private school kids? Is this what I have to look forward to for four years?
Dumdum put his loot someplace on his body, and after a little while, it became obvious that the green jacket Master’s Champion looking security guards were monitoring us.
I’d never been in ANY trouble up to this point in my life, let alone security guard level trouble. God, this could only lead to police and then federal level troubles if I ever get out of prison!
Five of us made a dash to the bathroom, even though there was only one dude who took anything. He chucked his gloves into the trash can and made a hilarious attempt to flush a three pack of men’s low cut colored brief underpants (I mean really, who steals underpants!?) down the toilet, but before he could make what was never going to happen happen, the green coats were in the shitter with us.
Good God, five private school to be kids who can’t outwit mall security guards.
Hello bottom 20% of the graduating class to be, it’s me Don!
Well, the security guards had a good laugh at us for being so stupid and dumdum was kind enough to fess up without being prompted that he was the only one who tried to steal anything.
I’ve never been so nervous about getting busted for something so stupid, but nobody got in trouble and we were allowed to walk around the mall while one of our parents came to get us and take us home. The green coats must have had bigger fish to fry or something.
This story is not nearly as asinine as the story about when I lost my virginity, which, sadly, also happened in 1987 with more of those private school to be classmates around causing trouble.
That post, however, will have to wait for another day.