To the Mother Goes the Spoils

I had a dream last night about my friend Jeff. In it, Jeff and I managed to win some sort of prestegious science and innovation competition (which means he did all the work and I came up with a fancy name for our creation). Anyway, we won the competition and were gifted several million dollars for our efforts. Sweet, right?

So I came in to his house to congratulate him and I was already spending the money we’d won. I’d parked my hovercraft in the lawn, was distributing lawn santas to neighborhood children, and I think I was wearing one of those big metal diving suits with the air hose out the top. Jeff was sitting at the kitchen table and when I clanked up behind him, I saw that he was writing a check to his mother for the remainder of the mortgage on the house. The sad thing is, if we’d really won money like that, that’s probably how that scene would have unfolded (though most likely without the diving suit, they’re too tough to get up the stairs).

It’s nice to see that even though he’s been dead five years now my mind still likes to remind me that Jeff is the greatest human being I’ve ever known.