[The following is a true piece of fiction]

My friend Brad is a strange guy. To say the least. You can tell him apart from the rest of the pack because of his occasional vacations to the psych farm and his penchant for wearing sweatpants in the summer. Also, I can’t recall a time in which we hung out and he didn’t carry around a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper.   Hell, he’d always offer those present the chance to take a swig, but with the way he slobbers you’d have to be an idiot to oblige.

Anyways, my friend distinguished himself yet again last week as we were hanging out at Chuck E. Cheese. See, Brad’s actually quite well-off because he inherited his uncle’s entire fortune. Uncle Tommy made his money in 1980’s pornography and 1990’s cocaine, and Brad was the only family member who’d give him the time of day. Whereas most of the relatives scorned Tommy for his professional choices, Brad didn’t have any problems with coke snortin’ whores. So when Tommy croaked, Brad became a millionaire. Feeling as though accepting his uncle’s inheritance would cheapen their relationship, Brad has vowed to donate $1,000 once a week.

So every Thursday, Brad and I go to a Chuck E. Cheese with two hundred five-dollar bills. Once there, we wade through the ball pit and deposit the cash at the bottom. We then sit back and watch as the money is discovered. Some weeks it takes hours for all the cash to leave, each paper-archaeologist keeping mum about their findings. Other weeks, well…let’s just say that we’ve seen more than a few fist fights break out.

It’s glorious.

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