Lyle got one over on me before he died.
|My great grandfather Lyle was a ridiculously wealthy man. He invented and patented a machine used for threshing wheat, known as a wheat thresher. Then, he made some good investments, got lucky with a few bets, and doubled his money several times. Lyle was also a very thrifty man, only spending his earnings on ridiculous costumes and big wheel bikes. The rest, he buried in a secret location that only he knew. With the exception of me, he adored his great grandchildren. especially Jerry, my 28 year old cousin.
Oh, how Lyle loved Jerry. He would take him fishing, big wheel bike riding, and even on coveted trips to the County Fair. In 1997, Lyle passed away at the horrendous age of one hundred and three. When I heard the news, I was joyously ecstatic. After all, he was incredibly rich and I was in line to get some of that money. No such luck. My great grandfather had been too idiotic to write a will or even anything close. Instead, on his death bed, Lyle had summoned Jerry to his side and with his last dying breath, he whispered to him the location of his buried fortune. I was livid. I wanted that money, or at least most of it.
Now, first let me explain a few things about Jerry. Jerry is deaf. He's also a mute. Now, ordinarily that would've been fine because deaf folk are usually able to read lips. Unfortunately Jerry also has a very lazy eye, so I'm not one hundred percent positive that he had read Lyle's lips, and if he did, he probably got it all muddled.
I approached Jerry the day after and asked him about the money, forgetting that Jerry couldn't hear a word I was saying or answer me back. Frustrated, I jotted, "JERRY, YOU HALF-CRAZED LOON. WHERE DID LYLE BURY HIS FORTUNE??" onto a piece of paper. Staring into his sluggish eye, I then remembered that Jerry, in addition to his other quirks, suffered from crippling tremors and Palsy in both hands so he was unable to write anything down or draw me a map. I was so angry and jealous of this useless man!
That was ten years ago. I've since discovered ways of dealing with my rage and jealousy. For one thing, I've taken up heavy drinking. This quiets the madness inside me for the time being and keeps my hands from wringing Jerry's spindly neck. In addition to that, I've begun collecting swords and large knives. Not because I like them, but because I'm furious with Jerry. I've also "acquired" a key to Jerry's room down at the Rainbow Group Home down on 2nd Street. Every Tuesday, I head on down to O'Malley's Pub and get completely hammered. Then I drive to the Group Home, sneak into Jerry's room and steal every last cent from the cofffee can on his nightstand. I figure in about fifty years, I'll have somewhere around the amount that I should've rightfully inherited when that horrible old Lyle passed away. I also relieve myself in his pillowcase. It helps ease the pain.