95. It Was an Old, Worthless Clock

It was an old clock, but it still told the correct time. The face had a faded picture of Andy’s parents taken when they were newlyweds. Aside from some photos, the clock was the only memento Andy had of his mom and dad.His father died of cancer in 1964. Then his mom moved to a private nursing home. She had many friends there. The nursing home, however, went bankrupt. They moved her into a state nursing home. She hated it there.She asked Andy to help her move into a private nursing home again. She had spent most of her husband’s savings on living expenses at the first nursing home. Andy said he would try.But Andy had no savings. He was a sergeant in the Army, and all his money went to his wife and three kids. He called his older brother Frank, who was single and had a great job. Frank was an avid deep-sea fisherman and was interested in buying a large boat for weekend use.“Frank, I don’t have the money now, but you do,” Andy pleaded. “Just pay for Mom and I’ll owe you for half of the nursing home costs.”“You’ll owe me? You don’t have two nickels to rub together, and probably never will. I’ll get stuck for the whole bill. What about my boat?”“What boat?”“Never mind. Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you.”Frank never did send his mom the money to move into a private nursing home. Alone and unhappy, she died in the state nursing home only a year later. Andy never forgave his brother.Many years went by. Frank’s health declined. He called up Andy one day. “Andy, I feel really bad about not helping out Mom. I was too interested in getting that boat. The older I’ve gotten, the more guilt I feel. My days are numbered, Andy. I was wondering if you would send me that clock, just for a little while. I want to beg Mom to forgive me.”Andy was very reluctant to part with his clock, but he did feel a little sorry for Frank.Frank died ten months later. One of Frank’s nieces, Flo, was the executor of his estate. Flo had hired a lawyer to help her Uncle Frank rewrite his will in his dying days. Strangely enough, Flo got everything.She made sure Uncle Frank was buried a day after his death. No announcement was made about his funeral, which Flo kept private—at the 20-minute service, Flo was the only mourner. Flo sold Uncle Frank’s house, car, and boat within the week. Everything of lesser value went to a charity. His cash and stocks, of course, were already safely in her name.When Andy discovered that his brother had died, he called Flo to ask about his clock. “Oh,” she said, “that went to charity with everything else. You didn’t really want that old thing, did you, Uncle Andy? Uncle Andy? Hello?” Well, that was rude, she thought.

96. Schoolboys Get Five-Finger Discount on Candy

Travis and Paul were best friends and in the ninth grade. They didn’t like anything about school except the girls and the baseball. They were both on the junior high baseball team. Both wanted to be major league baseball players when they grew up.On Thursday, baseball practice lasted for two hours after school. After practice, Travis and Paul were hungry and thirsty. Between them, they had $2.05. There was a small grocery store three blocks from the school.“What can we buy for only $2?” asked Travis.“We could split a soda and a candy bar,” replied Paul.“That’s going to be hard to do, since I like orange soda and you like root beer,” said Travis. “And I hate peanuts in candy bars and you love them,” said Paul.As they approached the store, they were still thinking about their problem. One solution, of course, was for one of them to pick the soda and the other to pick the candy bar. The problem with that solution would be that one of them would still be thirsty and the other would still be hungry.“Wait a minute,” said Paul. “I’ve got an idea.” They stopped, and Paul told Travis his idea.Mr. Cobb was the store owner. He had no use for kids. They were little people with little money. His eyes narrowed as he saw the boys approaching the store.After they entered the store, Travis walked over to the big cooler that was filled with ice and sodas. Paul walked over to the candy bar section.“Mr. Cobb, you don’t have any orange soda,” Travis said.“Yes, I do. Just dig a little. You’ll find one.”Travis dug for a minute.“I still can’t find one.”“Are you blind? I’ll be right there.”Mr. Cobb started digging through the ice. Paul immediately put two candy bars into his trousers’ baggy pockets. He patted the pockets down a little bit.“Look! Orange soda! What did I tell you?”“Thank you, sir,” Travis said.As Travis was paying for the orange soda and the root beer, Mr. Cobb looked at Paul.“You’re not buying anything?”“No, sir. We just wanted some sodas.”“Then why were you looking at the candy bars?”“Just to see if you got any new brands, sir.” Mr. Cobb’s narrow eyes got narrower as they moved slowly from Paul’s eyes to his shirt, to his pants, and to his shoes.“If I ever catch you stealing from me, I’ll chop off your hands, you hear me?” For emphasis, Mr. Cobb reached down beneath the countertop and pulled out a butcher knife, sharp and shiny.Both boys were startled. They ran out of the store.“Come back here. You forgot your change!” Mr. Cobb yelled at them.

97. Collecting Seashells at the Seashore

Maria and Lisa were best friends. They shared a two-bedroom apartment in Hollywood. Maria was a clerk at a clothing store, and Lisa was a clerk at a supermarket. Their hours varied, so they didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time together. But last weekend both were off work. “Let’s go to the beach,” suggested Maria.“That’s a good idea,” agreed Lisa. “Which one?”“Well, I would prefer an uncrowded beach, because I think I’ve put on a few pounds recently. I don’t want any boys seeing my fat.”“Oh, please,” said Lisa. “You eat so little. Ounces don’t turn into pounds. How about Zuma Beach? That’s pretty far north of Santa Monica Beach, so it’s just right—not too crowded and not too empty.”“That sounds good,” said Maria.The drive to the beach took more than an hour. When they got there, the hot and sunny Hollywood weather had become cool, windy, and overcast beach weather. Both of them had been to the beach many times before, so they were not surprised by the change in weather. They put on their jackets, shoes, and socks, and headed north to hunt for seashells.Within an hour they had collected about 20 beautiful shells into a plastic bag. They were still walking slowly north when they heard a roar. They turned around to see a four-wheel All Terrain Vehicle coming rapidly toward them. The driver braked at the last moment. Sand flew onto the two girls. They both screamed.The driver was wearing a jacket that said Beach Patrol. He got off the ATV and started yelling at them. “What are you two doing here? Can’t you read? The signs say Private Property. They say No Trespassing. Get out of here before I write you a ticket and have you arrested.”“What’s your name?” Maria stood defiantly. “I’m going to report you to the police. You’re not a real patrol officer. This is a public beach. Those signs are phony signs put up by homeowners who think they own the beach.”“My name is John Smith. Report me to whoever you want. Now get out of here or you’ll be sorry.”“You can’t make us leave. This is a public beach!” yelled Maria.The man got back onto his ATV and started driving in circles around the women. The ATV was spraying sand and water all over them. He was laughing. They started running back south. When the ATV driver saw that they were leaving, he drove off.“John Smith. A phony name to go with a phony uniform,” said Maria when they slowed down to a walk. “We’re going to the police station and make a complaint. I hope they put him in jail.”A few minutes later, Lisa asked, “Where are the shells?”“Oh, gee, in all the excitement I left them back there. I’m sorry.”“No problem,” replied Lisa. “There’s plenty of seashells in the sea.”“Yeah, just like there’s plenty of jerks on the shore.”Vocabulary Cloze CrosswordA. Yes/No Questions B. Wh- Questions C. Ask Questions D. Dictation MENU Copyright © 2012. All rights reserved.

98. Check Your Bags at the Store Entrance

Adrian’s favorite store was the $1 Store. This store had everything, from fresh produce to birthday cards to gasoline additives. Everything was one dollar. Usually, he got very good deals; occasionally, he got ripped off.A few days ago, Adrian bought six packages of ink for his printer. Then he found a deal on better ink at the local computer store. So Adrian went back to the $1 Store to exchange the ink for some other items.He put the ink into a plastic bag and tied it up. When he entered the store, he immediately showed the bag to a clerk and told her that he was returning some items. She looked at him but said nothing. There were about ten people in her line. She was obviously very busy. Not knowing exactly what to do, Adrian put the bag into a push-cart and started shopping.He was midway through shopping when a female employee suddenly stopped him. “Sir,” she said sternly, “you are not allowed to carry a plastic bag of items around in this store. What’s in this bag? Show me what’s in the bag!”Adrian was taken aback. There was no need for her to yell. He opened the bag and showed her the six packages of ink. “I’m returning these to exchange for some other items,” Adrian said.“You should have left the bag with the clerk when you entered this store. Let me see your receipt!” the employee demanded.Adrian was embarrassed. He felt like a shoplifter. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. He showed her the receipt.“Perhaps in the future you’ll learn how to follow store policy. Leave this bag here with the clerk. You can have your receipt and bag back when you check out.”By the time Adrian had finished shopping and exchanged the items, he was angry. How dare she treat him like a criminal? He went looking for her. He wanted an apology. He found her in the produce section and asked what her name was. She mumbled something. He asked her again, and this time he heard “Ursula.”“Ursula what?” he asked. She yelled at him, “Ursula!” and stormed away.When Adrian got home, he called the store’s corporate headquarters. This rude employee was about to lose her job, he said to himself. He described his unpleasant experience to a customer service representative. She was sympathetic. “Our employees are taught to be polite. We will not tolerate such behavior. Give me your phone number and I will call you back.”Two days later, Adrian received a phone call from the representative. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but there’s no one at that store named Ursula. Can you describe her? I’ll find out who she is. I assure you, we do not tolerate rude behavior, nor do we tolerate lying to customers.”By this time, Adrian had calmed down. He didn’t really want the employee to lose her job. He told the representative to forget about it.

99. When I Retire, We Will See the World

It was 10 p.m. Fritz said good night to his wife. She was watching TV. He went to bed. Tomorrow was a big day. It was his last day of work. Thirty years with the federal government. Thirty years of flying out of town for weeks on end. Thirty years of interviews, meetings, and heavy briefcases. Tomorrow it would all be over. Not that he didn’t like it. He had enjoyed his career.Fritz felt blessed. His father had had a tough life as an unskilled laborer. Whenever Fritz was a bit discouraged or upset, he thought about his overworked and underpaid father. He thanked God for his own good life, and for the fact that he had been able to make his dad’s last years comfortable.His two children were married and had their own careers. His wife Paige kept busy with, among other things, her bridge club. She had tried to get him interested in bridge, but without success. Fritz was content with his own Friday night poker group.Friday morning, he went to work for the very last time. Those who knew him well would miss him. Fritz was a genuinely nice guy. He never had a bad word to say about anyone. Some people might have thought he was a little dull, but he was intelligent, a hard worker, and a team player. He had taken only three weeks of sick leave in 30 years.A small group took him out to lunch. When he returned from lunch, the whole office gathered around for cake, ice cream, a farewell card, and a few short speeches. They presented him with various going-away gifts, including a big, paperback US atlas. It listed all the motels, campgrounds, national parks, tourist spots, and other information to help guide a leisurely traveler throughout the good old USA. He had told his friends that he and Paige were going to spend a couple of years visiting all the places that he never had gotten to explore while there on business. As a final gift, his supervisor told him to take the rest of the day off.Paige’s car wasn’t in the driveway when he got home. She was probably shopping for some traveling clothes. Maybe she was out arranging a dinner at a restaurant that evening for just the two of them. That would be nice.But something was wrong. When he hung up his jacket, he saw that the bedroom closet was half empty. Paige’s clothes were gone. Her shoes were not on the closet floor. Confused, he looked around the bedroom.He saw an envelope on the lamp stand. Inside it were two pieces of paper. One notified him of a divorce proceeding. The other was a hand-written note from Paige. “I’m so sorry,” it began. She said that her lawyer had told her to wait until today. If she had sought divorce a year earlier, like her boyfriend had suggested, she would not have been able to qualify for 50 percent of Fritz’s pension. She hoped that he would find it in his heart to forgive her. She felt terrible about this, she wrote, because “you’ve been so good to me. But I can’t ignore my own heart.”Fritz sat immobile on the edge of the bed. Her note was in his hand; her words were burning in his brain.Maybe an hour later, the phone rang. He picked it up on the fifth ring. It was Bob, wondering if Fritz was going to play poker later that night.

100. Get Me a Caffe Latte or Go to Jail

On Friday afternoon a judge sentenced lawyer Mickey Mantle to 24 hours in jail for contempt. Mantle had just won a lawsuit against a man who had struck Mantle’s client. The client had accidentally spilled a diet soda onto the defendant’s new sneakers, so he broke the client’s jaw. The judge sentenced the defendant to two years in jail for assault and battery. But after handcuffing the defendant, the sheriff’s deputy also handcuffed Mantle. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Mantle shouted.“Sorry. Judge’s orders,” replied the deputy, as he escorted Mantle and the defendant out of the courtroom. “She said to throw you in jail overnight for contempt of court.” Because the judge had already left the courtroom, Mantle had no one to protest to.Mantle and the convicted man were put in the back of the same van and driven five miles to the city jail. When they were taken out of the van, Mantle had a black eye and a bloody nose. He told the deputy that the defendant had head-butted him. The defendant called Mantle a liar. He told the deputy that Mantle had gone flying when the van made a sharp turn and banged his face on the defendant’s knee.The deputy took Mantle to the jail emergency room. Mantle couldn’t believe what was going on. He was a respected lawyer about to spend the night in jail with violent criminals, some of whom he’d helped to convict. He’d be lucky to get out alive. And all because of a stupid cup of coffee.Mantle was in jail because he had displeased Judge Brown. Brown had asked Mantle to bring her a caffe latte from Moonbucks on Mantle’s way back from lunch. Mantle had had previous run-ins with Brown. He didn’t like Brown, and refused to be her errand boy. When Mantle returned from lunch, she asked him where her coffee was. Mantle said, “They ran out. They said to come back tomorrow.”

87. Golf Like a Girl, Manage Like a Man

He was in his 60s. He was short, fat, and arrogant. He was the plant manager, the supervisor, the boss! His name was Tom. He relished every minute of his power. He yelled at the employees. He called them names. He smoked daily, even though it was against the law to smoke in the workplace. He didn’t care. As the license plate on his car said, he was The Boss.California is an “at will” state. That means that your employer can let you go for no reason (“You’re fired!”) or almost any reason ("You’re fired because you’re too tall!”). You can take your firing to court if it involves discrimination—sexism, racism, or ageism. However, even if you were discriminated against, proving it in court is difficult.Tom considered himself a macho man. He did not know that his employees considered him a jerk. They made fun of him behind his back. They called him Tommy Troll because he was short and mean and had no manners. Never once had anyone heard Tom use the words Please, Thank You, Excuse Me, or I’m Sorry.Everyone wanted to attend his funeral. But that wasn’t going to happen soon. After his last physical, he presented his blood test report at a weekly staff meeting. Every item on that report was within the acceptable range. “The doctor said I'll live to be 100,” he said proudly, immediately depressing most of the employees.Tom played golf every Sunday with some other supervisors. He was a bad golfer, but he thought he was good. He liked to joke around and make fun of other golfers. On the first tee last Sunday, Tom joked about a golfer who had just teed off: “Look at that guy. He swings like a girl.” Tom laughed heartily at his own joke. His buddies were silent.“What did you say?” asked the golfer angrily. He had overheard Tom’s remark. He was a mean-looking man.“Uh, nothing,” Tom said.“Yes, you did. You said I swing like a girl. Now I’ve got something to say. You apologize like a good little girl, or I’ll give you a fresh knuckle sandwich.”In front of his golf buddies, Tom meekly apologized. After only nine holes, during which Tom was unusually quiet, he excused himself and went home. He said he had a headache. But his friends thought it was shame that was eating at him. The next day, Tom was still upset. He told Bill to report to his office. He had never liked Bill. He always wondered why he had hired him in the first place.“I’m letting you go. I don’t need you here. Your last day is Friday."Bill wasn’t surprised. Saying nothing, he spat on Tom’s desk and walked out.

88. Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Ralph and Ilene hadn’t been to a baseball game in about five years. They were only 15 miles from the stadium, but the heavy traffic on game day made those 15 miles seem more like 60 miles. It took about an hour to get to the stadium. Then, when the game was over, it took half an hour just to get out of the parking lot. Then the drive home was another hour. In other words, the traveling took longer than the game itself.“Honey, the Giants are in town,” Ilene said. “I want to see Barry Bonds hit a home run. Can we go to the game? We haven’t gone in such a long time.”“You’re right. It has been a while. OK, I’ll go if you don’t mind driving,” said Ralph.“Great! Let’s get ready. If we get there early enough, I might get his autograph. Maybe he’ll hit a foul ball we can catch.” Ilene was excited. “We!?” Ralph thought.An hour later they were in their car. They lived in Pasadena near an old church. They went south on Orange Grove and then south on the 110 freeway. The 110 is California’s original freeway, full of twists and turns. Accidents occur daily; California drivers think yellow lights and sharp curves mean the same thing—speed up!The traffic was lighter than they expected. They arrived at the stadium 40 minutes before game time. They paid the $8 parking fee, parked and locked the car, and walked to the main entrance.Several individuals were standing around outside the stadium, looking casual but actually selling tickets on the sly. “Are you going to buy from a scalper?” asked Ilene.“Yes. Just like last time. That one looks honest,” Ralph replied.They walked over to a man in a red cap. Ralph’s instincts were correct. The man had tickets for good seats at a fair price. Ralph gave the man $45 and thanked him.“Don’t thank me, my friend. Thank your local police department. Put your hands behind your back, please. You’re under arrest.”“What?” Ralph was astonished. “What’s going on?”“Buying scalped tickets is illegal in Los Angeles,” said the undercover police officer. “It’s been illegal for 25 years. Don’t worry. The police station is right outside the park. We’ll have you back here right after we book you. You can pay the $150 fine with your credit card.” The officer handcuffed Ralph.“This has got to be a joke. You people have never enforced this law before,” said Ralph.“Well, we’ve got a new mayor and he wants us to enforce all the laws that bring in money. Come with me, please. I’ll have you back here in 20 minutes. Ma’am, you can wait here for him. You might want to buy some legitimate tickets while you're waiting. Have a nice day. Oh, and enjoy the game!”

89. Take This Job and Shove It

Maxwell had not held a steady job in almost two years. Today was a big day, because he was going to a job interview that he felt good about. The secretary he had talked to on the phone sounded friendly and encouraging.Maxwell was a typist. His fingers danced on the keyboard. However, his people skills were not nearly as good as his typing skills. Sometimes his mouth got in the way of his employment. At his last steady job, his boss had told him to start making coffee every morning. Maxwell laughed. “I’m not making coffee,” he said. “It’s not part of my job description.”“Read the employee manual again,” his boss said. “Your job description is anything I say it is.”“That’s a woman’s job,” said Maxwell. “Do it yourself.”His boss was still yelling as Maxwell walked out of the building. He felt great about telling off the boss. A few days later, the reality of not having a job hit home. He had to pay the rent and utility bills, and he had to eat. What was he going to do?He thought about apologizing and asking for his job back. But how would that look? Then again, who cares how it looks when you’re almost broke? After thinking about it for another week, he finally called his boss and apologized. His boss accepted his apology, but said that he had already hired a replacement.Maxwell contacted a temporary job agency, which provided him enough occasional work to pay his bills. But none of the companies that he was sent to were hiring. So Maxwell was excited about finally getting an interview for a steady job.Maxwell’s drive to the interview was disappointing. The traffic was congested and the neighborhood looked rough. It took him 45 minutes to get there. The building was covered with graffiti.The interview started 30 minutes late. Not bothering to apologize, the manager lit a cigarette and took a sip from his coffee cup. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He asked Maxwell a lot of questions. Maxwell thought that each question was stupider than the preceding question. The final question was, “Where would you like to be 10 years from now?”What does that have to do with typing? Maxwell wondered. Stupid questions from a rude man in a lousy neighborhood! Where would he like to be 10 years from now?“Anywhere but this dump!” Maxwell said angrily, as he stood up and walked out.

90. Where Did That Book Go?

Samuel was back at the thrift shop. He had walked into the shop with only one goal in mind—to find a book that he had NOT bought yesterday. The book was one of seven that he had piled up yesterday. He was going to buy all of them. But at the last moment, he changed his mind. He put all seven back on the shelf.Samuel had a personal library at home that exceeded 1,000 books—almost all unread. He subscribed to seven magazines and one daily newspaper. Samuel had more reading material in his small apartment than he could finish in two lifetimes, yet his urge to buy more books raged on.He finally put his foot down. Not one more book, he told himself, unless it was really special. Yesterday’s book fit the bill. It was a biography of one of his favorite authors—Stephen King. King is one of America’s most popular fiction authors. But it wasn’t easy for King; early in his career, he got hundreds of rejection slips. Samuel wanted to be a great writer. King was his role model.Samuel immediately found one of the books he had piled up yesterday, and then another one. All right, he thought. This was going to be easy. In minutes, he found all the books that he had held in his hands yesterday, except one—the Stephen King book. Gee, what a surprise, he thought. The one book that I want to find is the one book that I can’t find.Samuel took a walk throughout the store, knowing that people often pick up merchandise in one place and then leave it in another place. The book was a thick paperback with a red cover. But it was nowhere to be found.So for Samuel, the Big Hunt was on. He was now a man on a mission. Every thrift shop he went to would involve a search for the King book. This new search added purpose to his thrift shop life.Samuel had held something special in his hands. But only when he let it go did he realize its value. When he found it again, he would place the King book prominently on his bookshelf. It would almost certainly be his favorite book that he never got around to reading.

91. When You’ve Got Your Health, You've Got Everything

Hannah’s daddy was a teacher who barely made enough money to raise his six kids. Hannah wore hand-me-downs from her older sisters. For Christmas she usually got used dolls and books. As a child, she yearned to have the beautiful clothes, cars, and homes that she often saw on TV and in magazines.Several years after she graduated from college, she became part-owner of a successful interior decorating business in Manhattan. Her life became what she had dreamed about as a little girl. A successful business woman, she had a handsome, wealthy fiancé. She owned her own co-op near Central Park. She took skiing vacations in the winter and exotic cruises in the summer. At the age of 30, Hannah was on top of the world.Then she underwent a routine health checkup, and her perfect world crumbled. Her doctor told her that she had pancreatic cancer. Surgery was necessary to determine how much the cancer had spread. Hannah was operated on a week later. The surgeon suspected that cancer had spread to vital organs. Ten days later, the lab confirmed his suspicions.Hannah’s doctor said he could treat her with chemotherapy and painkillers, but it was just a matter of time before the cancer killed her. She asked how much time. He guessed that she had less than a year to live. How can this be, Hannah wondered. Doesn’t this always happen to someone else?A couple of weeks later, she visited another cancer specialist. He examined her and read her medical and lab reports. He said he agreed with her surgeon. “If you have any once-in-a-lifetime plans, do them now,” he advised.Instead, Hannah spent her last months in her co-op, tended to by hospice workers. Her family and friends visited her regularly. The moment before she died, she opened her eyes and tried to say something to her fiancé. She squeezed his hand weakly.“She was in constant pain,” her fiancé said. “At the end, she could barely whisper. She weighed 80 pounds when she died. I can’t believe that God allows things like this to happen to people.”

92. It Doesn’t Have That ‘New Car’ Smell

Dylan’s car was 20 years old, but the faded paint made it look even older. His friend Joe told him no girl would ever go out in a car that looked like that. So Dylan took the car to a paint shop and got it painted dark blue for only $200. He was very pleased with the new look. The car stereo did not work. Joe told him that no girl wanted to be in a car without a good sound system. So Dylan bought a nice stereo and installed it himself.Months went by. One day, Dylan told Joe that no girl had ridden in his “new” car yet. “That’s because there are other problems,” Joe told him. “Like what?” “Well, you don’t exactly have the world’s best personality,” Joe said. “That’s a little more important than a paint job.” So Dylan told Joe he would ask a psychologist to give him a new personality.Recently, Dylan had a new problem—gasoline. He smelled gas after he started his car; he smelled it while driving the car. Was he driving a bomb? What if someone tossed out a cigarette near his car? Would it explode into a thousand pieces—pieces that included Dylan?That night, he opened his car manual. It was a well-thumbed book. He had a car problem at least once a month, and he was always looking up ways to fix the problems. He thought this might be a carburetor problem.The next day, he took his toolbox out to his car. He opened the hood. He started up the car and looked all around the carburetor for a gas leak. He could smell the gas, but he couldn’t find a liquid trail. After a few minutes, however, he found the source of the problem. It was the fuel line.“All right!” he thought. “All I have to do is buy a new line and install it.” But it wasn’t long before he realized that this was a job for a mechanic. So he got into his car, opened all the windows, and drove to the closest mechanic. The mechanic quoted Dylan a price of only $50. He told Dylan to come back in an hour.Dylan walked down the street to the coffee shop and bought himself a cup of coffee. He read the paper, drank the coffee, and then walked back to the shop.“We couldn’t fix it,” said the mechanic. “The fuel line wasn’t the problem; you need a new fuel pump.”“A new fuel pump? How much is that?” Dylan asked.“Parts and labor? I think it’ll be about $200. We’ll have to special-order the pump. This car is so old that they might not even make pumps for it any more. Do you want me to try to order it for you? You’ll have to put the money up first, of course.”“Let me think about it. Here’s the $50 I owe you. I’ll give you a call when I decide what to do.”But Dylan had already decided what to do. He had bought his car for only $1,100, but had put over $3,000 into it since then. When he got home, he called the Car Donation Corporation. They would take the car off his hands for free. Enough was enough. It was time to let go.

93. Rich Man Invites Poor Student to Dinner

Jodie liked her apartment. She had a beautiful view to the south. A nearby tree was home to two squirrels. She liked to watch them. So did her cat. Mrs. Neely owned the apartment building. She was an old lady who spoke with a thick Norwegian accent.Jodie and Mrs. Neely got along very well. Mrs. Neely said that Jodie reminded her of her daughter, who had died in a car crash years ago. Mrs. Neely was a widow. She kept busy by volunteering at the local library and senior center. An excellent baker, she often brought bread and pastries to Jodie.“You’re trying to make me fat,” laughed Jodie one day. “How will I ever find a boyfriend?”“I still can’t believe that Prince Charming hasn’t found you,” said Mrs. Neely. “Maybe you’re just too pretty and too smart for the young men around here.”Jodie was going to graduate school at night. She had a day job as a teacher’s assistant in the fourth grade. She loved teaching kids. The principal had already told her that a full-time teaching job was hers after she got her master's degree.“Aren’t there any nice boys in your graduate classes, Jodie?” Mrs. Neely asked.“There are some,” said Jodie. “But they’re either married, or have a girlfriend, or are too focused on getting their degree. And don’t forget, I have to concentrate on graduating, so I really shouldn’t be dating anyway.”“Well, that’s just a shame,” said Mrs. Neely. “You’re too pretty to be alone. But don’t worry. You keep doing your homework, and I’ll be on the lookout for you.” She winked at Jodie. Jodie smiled. She loved Mrs. Neely.Mrs. Neely died not long after that conversation. She had a stroke while mixing some batter for cookies. An ambulance took her to the hospital, where she died a day later.Her son Ned was Mrs. Neely’s sole heir. Ned had been married and divorced three times. None of his wives had anything nice to say about him. Ned didn’t care. He was looking for Wife Number Four.Ned introduced himself to Jodie right after Mrs. Neely’s funeral on Saturday. He knew about Jodie because Mrs. Neely had told him about her. Ned said he was afraid that he might have to double her rent. Also, no pets were allowed in the building. “You’ll have to take your cat to the pound,” he said.“In that case,” she said, “I’m moving out.”“I was joking, of course. You’re very pretty,” said Ned.“Thank you,” said Jodie.“Come to dinner with me at Chez Maison tonight and we can discuss your apartment and your cat.” Ned had an air of confidence that Jodie found mildly attractive.“That might be nice,” she found herself saying. Ned told her he would pick her up at 8 and left. Jodie wondered if she was doing the right thing. She didn’t even know this guy. Oh well, she thought, it would be nice to eat at a fancy restaurant for a change.She picked up some cat food on her way home.

94. It Only Rings When I'm in the Bathroom

Uncle Harry had no answering machine because hardly anyone ever called. Most of his friends and relatives were already dead. He had outlived them all, even though he smoked and drank most of his life. So much for all their talk about clean living, he sometimes thought.The only person who talked to Uncle Harry regularly was his nephew Teddy. Teddy called several times a week, just for a few minutes to say hello and see if everything was OK. Some days Teddy had to call twice or more because Uncle Harry didn't answer the first phone call. When he finally did get through, Uncle Harry would chastise Teddy for his bad timing. “How do you always manage to call me when I'm in the bathroom?” he would ask.Tuesday morning, Teddy let the phone ring ten times. He then hung up and went back to work. That afternoon he called Uncle Harry again. Again, no answer. A couple of hours later, he called again. Still no answer. He called Ira, Uncle Harry’s next-door neighbor.“Hello,” said Ira.“Hi, Ira, this is Teddy.”“Hi, Teddy. How are you?”“Oh, I’m fine, Ira. But I’m a little worried about Uncle Harry. I called him three times today and he didn’t answer once. I don’t think he could have been in the bathroom all three times, do you?”“No, I don’t think so,” laughed Ira. “He does complain about that, doesn’t he? Anyway, I’ll go next door and see what’s up. If he doesn’t open the door, I know where he hides his spare key. I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?”“Okay, Ira. Thanks a lot,” Teddy said.A while later, Teddy’s phone rang. It was Ira. He sounded shaken. “Teddy, I’m sorry it took so long. I have bad news. Harry didn't answer the door, so I used his spare key. He was dead, Teddy. I’m sorry.”“Oh, my gosh! That’s terrible!”“I called the hospital, and they told me to call the coroner’s office. The coroner said they were busy, and wouldn’t be able to make it here until tomorrow or the day after.”“What happened? Did he fall? Did he die in his sleep? Is he lying on the bed with a peaceful look on his face?”“Not exactly, Teddy. He’s lying on the bathroom floor with a look of surprise on his face. We can move him to his bed later. But right now I’ve got to go home, Teddy. I think I might be in shock or something. I don’t feel right.”

80. Squirrel Attacks Woman in Golf Cart

A woman golfing with her husband and her mother was taken to the local hospital yesterday afternoon. The woman was struck by a golf cart driven by her mom.Ginger Rogers, 55, was hit by the cart about 2 p.m. at Fairway Golf Course. She was examining her 50-foot putt on the par 5 tenth hole when she heard her mother scream. Ginger turned around just in time to see her mom driving straight toward her. The force of the collision knocked her over, and the cart then ran over her foot.Her mom, 81 years old, said that a squirrel had jumped up into the cart looking for snacks. She tried to shoo the squirrel away. Instead, it rose up on its hind feet and made a hissing sound. Startled and frightened, the old lady hit the gas pedal.The paramedics arrived about 15 minutes later and treated Ginger for a broken left ankle. They gave a mild sedative to her mother, who kept muttering, “Vicious, simply vicious.” Then they took Ginger to the hospital. Mr. Rogers promised his wife he would visit her after he finished his round.John Dean, an attorney for the golf course, said the golf course was not responsible for the actions of its animals. He added, “If the ladies want to sue, they’ll have to sue the squirrel. We’re still assessing the damage to the cart and the green. It looks fairly light; I doubt that the driver will owe us more than $1,000.”

82. English Is Confusing

“Good evening, everybody!” said the teacher, Donna. “Where is everybody?” That was sort of a daily joke by Donna. Usually the class started with only two or three students present, and then filled up as the minutes went by. It was summertime. Summer school was only eight weeks long. Class attendance was always smaller than during fall and spring semesters.“I don’t know, teacher. Maybe they late or no come,” said one student. “Maybe watching TV football tonight.”“Is there a soccer game tonight? It seems like there’s a soccer game every night. Oh, well. Let’s get started, okay? We’re on page 36 in the workbook. Tonight we’re studying participles as adjectives. Students are always confused when they learn about the present and past participles, so we will practice this a lot. Tonight, we’re just going to practice the present participle.“The present participle tells us what emotion or feeling the subject is causing. For example, ‘Grammar is boring’ means that the subject—grammar—causes an emotion of boredom. If we say, ‘The movie is interesting,’ we are saying that the movie causes a feeling of interest. If we say, ‘The roller coaster is exciting,’ we are saying that the roller coaster causes a feeling of excitement. Any questions so far? Am I confusing you? Is everyone confused?”The classroom was quiet. Donna looked at blank faces. They were confused. She knew this would take a while. But eventually, the faster students would grasp it, and then they would help the slower students. By the end of the evening, most of the class would feel comfortable using the present participle.Donna erased the board and put some new examples on it. She loved guiding her students through difficult topics like this one. She always felt a little bit thrilled when the look of understanding came to their faces.

83. Pump Up the Tires and Ride the Bike

The blue bike was sitting in Owen’s living room. It had no kickstand, so he had wedged the front tire in between two bookshelves so that the bike would stand upright. Both tires were flat. Dust covered the bike. However, no household spiders had set up a web site. When was the last time I rode this thing, he wondered as he looked at it.It was Sunday. Sunset was still almost two hours away. The temperature had been 86 at noon, but had dropped to about 76. Owen had spent Saturday and most of Sunday cleaning up his apartment. The termite inspector was coming on Monday. Owen wanted the inspector to be able to “inspect” without tripping over boxes, books, fishing rods, and golf clubs.Owen was going to reward himself with a late afternoon bicycle ride. He enjoyed riding or walking through his neighborhood with its many beautiful houses, yards, and trees. But first, he had to inflate both bike tires. He got out a hand air pump he had bought at a thrift shop for only $2. The pump nozzle adapter didn’t fit onto the bike’s valve stem. Nothing is ever simple, he thought.He looked for his new pump, the one that had cost $10. It had all the bells and whistles: high volume air flow on both up and down strokes, quick lock valve adapter and four nozzle adapters, air gauge, and footplate for easy pumping. It was a beauty. Of course, Owen couldn’t find it. I’ve got everything, but I can’t find anything, Owen muttered.As usual, Owen did find one thing while he was looking for another thing. He found another used pump that he had been looking for a month ago. It was a big, heavy, steel pump that had an air gauge and a small leak somewhere. Owen connected the pump to the rear tire. He started pumping. The “small” leak seemed to have gotten bigger. Owen stopped counting after the first 80 pumps; finally the dial hit 65 psi. He was huffing and puffing. He went to the refrigerator and got a diet soda. After finishing it, he pumped up the front tire. Sweat dripped from his forehead. That was a good workout, he thought as he finished off a second soda. He screwed the valve stem caps back on. He stood back and admired his “new” tires proudly.The bike was now ready to ride. Owen, however, felt a little tired. Plus, he was hungry. In fact, it looked like it was getting too dark for a long ride. There’s always tomorrow, he thought as he opened the refrigerator door. The chilled air felt good.

84. Don’t Go Swimming on an Empty Stomach

Pete had lived in Florida for 20 years. A boring 20 years, he often thought. His house was only a 10-minute walk from the Gulf. He walked to the sandy white beach almost every day. Bob’s Liquors was at the corner, halfway to the beach. It was the only store within a mile. It sold cold beer and cigarettes, which were the only two things that interested Pete today. The owner of Bob’s was Bill. Bill had bought the store from Bob, but never renamed the store. “'Bob’s' has a nice ring to it,” he told curious customers. Also, of course, keeping the old name saved him money, time, and trouble.When the water was unsafe, the lifeguards would put red flags all up and down the beach to warn swimmers to stay out of the water. Today was a red flag day. Fierce riptides and lots of jellyfish were predicted for the next 48 hours.Although windy and completely overcast, it was a warm September day. Pete stopped at Bob’s. Bill said hello and told Pete to be careful because of the riptide reports. He asked, “What’ll it be today, Pete?”Pete ordered the usual—a pack of cigarettes and beer. Bill put the six-pack into a double paper bag because that helped keep the beer cold longer. Pete paid him and said goodbye. He walked out the door and crossed the two-lane street, not bothering to look in either direction.The flags were flapping loudly. Small waves were splashing onto the beach. Sea gulls were walking at water’s edge. Low thunder rumbled occasionally in the distance. An irregular line showed where wet sand met dry sand. Pete sat down on the dry sand. He opened a can of beer and lit a cigarette. There was no one else at the beach, except a woman walking away from him, stopping frequently to examine seashells. Pete watched a pelican dive into the water. Far away on the horizon, a stationary ship floated.Pete was a strong swimmer. He had learned to swim when he was four years old. In grade school and high school, he won numerous swimming and diving tournaments. His parents had high hopes that he would compete in the Olympics.Pete opened the fifth beer and lit yet another cigarette. The woman collecting seashells had disappeared from sight. He got up and walked into the water. When the water was almost thigh-high, he felt the current tugging at him. A jellyfish stung him behind his right knee. He took a final drag on his cigarette and flicked it into the water. He finished the beer, filled the empty can with sea water, and threw it back onto the beach. He looked at the ship.Then he dove in and started swimming.

85. The Park That Went to the Dogs

When Winnie and Arnold bought their house at the end of a cul-de-sac in 1980, they thought they had died and gone to heaven. There were only four houses on the street. Between their house and their neighbor’s house was a dirt pathway. The path led to a city-owned dog park, where dog owners could let their dogs run free. But there was no parking lot for dog owners’ cars. Dog owners had to park on the street, and then walk their dogs to the leash-free park.In 1980 no one seemed to know about the park. The only people who used it were the people who lived in the neighborhood. The neighbors used to joke that they had their own private dog park.Those were the good old days. Things have changed. The park has become like California in the Gold Rush days. Everyone knows about it. A dog may be man’s best friend, but 1,000 dogs certainly are not.Over the years, the neighborhood association, consisting of about 70 houses nearest to the park, has begged the city council to reduce park hours. It is open from 7:00 to 7:00 seven days a week. But some dog owners actually arrive at 6:00, saying that they needed to beat the rush. To save walking distance, others park in neighborhood driveways. Others bring boom boxes and play music loudly in the park. Others knock on neighborhood doors and ask to use the bathroom. Weekends are even worse than weekdays. Whole families spend the day with their dogs. People, dogs, noise, and trash are everywhere.“We’re stuck here,” said Arnold. “I’ve been trying to sell my place for five years. But when buyers see all this dog traffic, they take off running. What a joke. This place was heaven when we first moved here. Now it’s hell.”The city council has ignored the neighborhood association’s pleas for help. A council member said, “We have to meet the public demand. This no-leash park is very popular. I’m sorry, but if the homeowners don’t like it, they can always move. This is a free country, you know.”

86. Brother, Can You Spare a Carburetor?

Daniel needed a new carburetor for his car. Well, not a new one. A new one would cost at least $250. Even a rebuilt one would cost about $110. The cheapest thing to do was to go to a salvage yard.California has about 50 salvage yards. Most of them are in southern California. The yards range in size from 10 acres to 70 acres, holding anywhere from 300 to 3,000 abandoned, wrecked, or cheaply sold cars. The yards are usually located outside of downtown but near a freeway ramp.A salvage yard might pay you up to $200 to take your rundown car off your hands. Before they place it in the yard, however, they will remove all its liquids—oil, gas, coolant, brake fluid, transmission fluid, power steering fluid, and windshield washer solvent. Vehicles usually sit in the yard for only a month before they are crushed, stacked, and then transported to a recycler.Vehicle parts are inexpensive, but you have to remove them yourself. The carburetor that Daniel needed was only $20. Nothing in the yard, however, comes with a guarantee. If it doesn’t work or fit, you can replace it with a similar item, but you won’t get your money back.Daniel borrowed his brother’s car. After paying the $3 entry fee to the man in the little wooden shack, Daniel walked into the yard. He walked about five minutes before he found the foreign car section. It looked like there were at least 200 cars. It was sunny and hot. There was no shade anywhere in the yard. Carrying his toolbox, Daniel went searching for a matching carburetor.Almost three hours later, Daniel was back at the shack. He bought himself a cold soda from a machine. A few minutes later, he paid the $20 plus tax and walked out of the yard. Driving home, he wondered if all the work was worth the savings. If the carburetor didn’t work, he’d have to do this all over again.When he got home, his brother Monty was standing next to Daniel’s car. Monty had a big smile on his face. “Hey, guess what? It wasn’t your carburetor. It was the fuel filter. I changed it, and your car runs great now.”