Here, I Give You the Poorest Bank in America

“George is looking for you. He actually walked all the way over here to find you from his house,” Rosa told me as I sat eating my two barbeque sandwiches from Rodger’s Barbeque for lunch.

“I live five minutes behind this shopping center,” I said, perplexed. “I must have missed him when I walked to Rodger’s. He probably just wants to borrow some money.”
An elderly lady dressed in a Jimi Hendrix “Are you Experienced?” tie dyed t-shirt then walked into the dollar store just above us and disappeared inside the store.

Rosa laughed at the lady and said, “That ought to be a crime. I wonder if she smokes the wacky weed, too.”
“I wouldn’t give that son of a bitch a dime,” Rosa said, coarsely.

“For a grown woman, you have the most awful potty mouth,” I said as I frowned. “Besides, George always pays me back. It is like an interest free loan. I am George’s bank and what a poor bank it is.”

I chuckled and Rosa laughed at me about the poor bank saying.

“Are you gonna eat those potato chips?” Rosa then asked, hungrily eyeing the bag of sour cream and onion flavored chips I had brought with my sandwiches and that were yet to be eaten.

“Here,” I said handing them to her as I opened them. “I am full.”

An elderly lady dressed in a Jimi Hendrix “Are you Experienced?” tie dyed t-shirt then walked into the dollar store just above us and disappeared inside the store.

Rosa laughed at the lady and said, “That ought to be a crime. I wonder if she smokes the wacky weed, too.”

I burst out laughing. For some reason, that struck me as so funny and the old lady did look goofy with a tie dyed t-shirt that would be more at home on a dope smoking college student or high school kid.


“I still wouldn’t give him a damn dime,” Rosa then said, changing the subject once again, with her mouth full of potato chips and a scowl upon her face.

Rosa dislikes George for the most part because George will not let her “borrow” cigars that will never be paid back. I can’t quite blame him, actually. Rosa has bummed enough smokes from me for me to start my own tobacco shop with.

“I am gonna head home and call his cell phone,” I said as I got up, interested to know what was going on with George today.

I actually had twenty bucks I could let him borrow. I got an email the other day about me “enabling” George to drink by letting him borrow money all the time. I replied with just a smiley face and my name. George is going to find a way to get a stiff drink no matter what I do or don’t do.

“Hey, you ain’t got five bucks, do you?” Rosa then asked me as I started to walk away.

“I paid for your lunch yesterday, gave you my potato chips and some smokes, and you still want to borrow five bucks?” I asked as I turned around to face Rosa once again, grimacing.

“Ple-e-e-e-ease?” Rosa pleaded as she grabbed my arm and pulled me close.

“I don’t have it,” I said as I told a small white lie and walked on home, glad to get out of there before I could be pestered about money anymore.

Too bad, I don’t charge interest, I thought as I walked. It would pay for the new vinyl siding on my house that will go up soon.

I never could get George on the phone. I hope he paid his cell phone bill this month. I did get to talk to my brother in San Diego for a good thirty minutes, though. It was good to hear his voice and we laughed and laughed, joking about how horrible of a driver my father is and the time he drove into Mexico without car insurance.

Oh, and hi Dad! *waves* My father is now reading my journal every day to check up on me and to see what I am doing.

Well, a nap is calling me after a night devoid of decent sleep. Come on, Maggie, let’s hit the hay.