Nobody seems to pick up a fallen penny anymore.  Even a child will step across it and definitely NOT exclaim Oh!  I found a lucky penny!

In a coffee shop, she watches a man drop a penny.  He looks down and walks away.  The little copper Lincoln just lies there.  If that man should come upon a Wishing Well, he would need only one penny to make a damn wish.  She picks it up.

It was 99 cents.  It wasn’t a dollar and it wasn’t 95 cents.  How exactly do you think you get those four cents?  Four pennies.  Of course it’s not just four pennies because of Taxes.  Has the IRS forgotten pennies the way the public seems to have?  Little Johnny IRS would definitely stop and pick up that man’s fallen penny.

Hey Mister!  I got your penny!

Oh, thanks Kid.  He puts out an open palm.

Finders Keepers Losers Weepers!

It takes pennies to make up a dollar.  Seconds to make up a minute.  Minutes to make up an hour.  When was the last time you cared about a second?  Oh you’re a RUNNER!  Never mind.

Written on the chalk wall behind the counter are the words It Takes a Valley to Make a Mountain.

Highs are not found without lows.  If the parts were all equal, it would be The Great Plains and even there a river must meander its way cutting and carving against the grain.

She sticks the penny in her pocket and later finds it clicking away in her dryer.  She throws it into a jar on the kitchen counter next to the Fuck it Bucket.  She really likes common cents.


Dinner is simmering on the stove and she places the vacuum back in the cupboard.  She pauses to say, “Sit.”  Two children and a dog drop.  The children quietly pencil over their homework while the dog politely tilts his head adorably.

“I love you Mommy,” the children say in perfect unison.

“I love you too my darlings.”

She dusts her way down the hallway and glances at her reflection in the mirror.  Her hair is soft, her eyes are bright, and her ass is high and tight.  The house is clean, the kids are brilliant, the dog is behaved, the taxes are paid, the groceries are stocked and she brought her own bags, the hedges are hedged and the phone is ringing.

It’s her BFF.

“I just wanted to call you and tell you that you are awesome!  Thank you for the organic vegetables from your garden and for volunteering for absolutely everything forever and ever.”

“Oh you’re welcome.  You are awesome too!”  She hangs up the phone and wonders if she would have been an even better friend if she had told her BFF that the last time she got her eye brows done one was slightly higher than the other.  She decides she’ll just mention that to her second BFF instead.  Maybe she can tell her.

While setting the table, her husband, Mario Andretti, comes home.

“How is everything dear?” Mario asks.

“It’s wonderful!  Everything is UNDER CONTROL!” She positively beams.

“If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough-” Mario Andretti 

Smart Phone verses Wild

Two men walk into the wilderness.  The first man turns left down a dusty pined trail towing his Camelbak and a smart phone serviced by AT&T.  The second man veers right scrambling over loose boulders carrying his NorthFace and a smart phone wired to T-Mobile.  Both men completely lose their way.  It’s a day hike gone Donner, only it’s a private party and no one wants to eat their own leg.

Hiker number one realizes he’s completely against the wild around 2pm.  His Camelbak is drained and he’s eaten his last dark chocolate covered almond.  A blister may or may not be forming on his left toe.  He whips out his smart phone and texts: Babe, I’m totally lost in the back country.  I’m pretty sure I can get to the tree by the rock that we like with the view.  Be there in 30 minutes?

Babe texts back: You’re an idiot.  I’m looking at your GPS tracking system and you’re not even close.  Don’t worry.  I’ll pick you up off the road.  Walk 200 meters to your right and wait there. I’ll bring Pinot Noir and cheese.

Meanwhile somewhere to the right, T-Mobile Man discovers the error of his ways.  Doh!  He grabs his smart phone and finds a permanent NO SERVICE.  He texts anyway.  Sweetie, Come get me, I need help!  The little green bar slides half way across the screen and pauses.  Eventually, the smart phone declares ERROR!

Thirty years later.

Lefty with the AT&T is happily married.  Not to Babe who saved his ass, but to Betty.

Righty is sitting in the fucking back country with a beard down to his knees squatting on the ground talking to Wilson.  He picks up his smart phone and uses the screen to flash yet another passing private plane a mirror signal.  Damnit, it did not work.  Again.

If the shit doesn’t provide service, it isn’t so SMART.  Attention Bargain Shoppers.