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The Dollar--A silly, exaggerated tale of how money can give you a brain tumor
An Event To Shake The Ground of Childhood
My nieces, Nikki and Mia, were to come to visit my house on the Tuesday following Easter. I had arranged the visit with their mother so that I could take them to the mall to pick out late Easter gifts from their grandmother, who did not have the time in her schedule of working nights to go shopping herself. But, to make it so the girlies could see their grandmother, I was to entertain them for two hours until my mother woke up in the early afternoon before having to get ready for work. It was then that I was acquainted with it--the dollar.
Mia, the youngest of the two born in the same year, had received the dollar from her elder half-brother as a reward for biking up some very big hills. The moment that she had arrived, she proudly pulled the dollar out from her pocket and presented it to me. I congratulated her on a job well done, but then told her to put the dollar back in her pocket since she has a habit of leaving things at the house.
For the next two hours, I went back and forth with her about placing the dollar in her pocket. She insisted on leaving the dollar on the coffee table, exclaming that she wouldn't forget it and that it was safe there. But my persistence proved greater, and at last, the dollar was placed into her pocket.
But not for long.
Granny had woken up and came downstairs to visit with her grandchildren. Mia had to show the dollar to her grandmother and explain how she got it. She produced the dollar, talked loudly about it, and held the dollar close to her mouth. Honestly, I had to roll my eyes because the fight over placing the dollar back in her pocket was to resume. But Granny had other worries.
"You shouldn't put money near your mouth. Money is very dirty," Granny told her young grandchildren. Both Nikki and Mia are very intelligent for their ages, but they couldn't understand how money was so full of germs. Granny, working as a nurse for over twenty years, felt it necessary to go into exactly how money was dirty. But when the girlies still couldn't understand, Granny gave an example.
"I used to work as a waitress and I would get tips doing it. I would put the tips in my pocket as soon as I got them, but I was working so hard that by the end of the night, the money in my pocket would be soaked. I would then, after working, go to the store to buy a few things and use that sweaty money. The cashier would take that money and put it in the cash register, and then rub her eye. My sweat and germs would then go into her eye and she would get an eye infection. Then, she would go to a doctor and use her money. The doctor would then take that money and touch his eye on accident and get an eye infection as well. Next, the doctor would go to the pharmacy to get medicine and use the money to pay for it. The pharmacist would then get the money and get pneumonia and wind up in the hospital with a brain tumor."
Of course I had to step in and ask my mother how in the world the pharmacist got a brain tumor from a dollar. She sighed and remarked that she would change it to viral menengitis. The girlies were then told that viral menengitis is a dangerous brain infection.
Mia then decided that she wanted nothing to do with the dollar, and gave it to Nikki. Around that time, I was gathering them together to get them in my car so that we could keep our schedule. Over the next few hours, I fought with Nikki about putting the dollar in her pocket and not letting her spend it on candy or other little things. She didn't want the dollar either, and Mia repeatedly said that she didn't want it. But I was determined that they would keep the money, regardless of what fear of unknown disease their grandmother put into their heads.
Soon, the girlies were back home and everything from drinks to their gifts were taken out of my car. I got into the car and drove away. Ten minutes down the road, I looked down on the passenger-side seat. There, as plain as day, and in all of it's glory, was the dollar.