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The Mundane and Ordinary
Objects hold an incredible potential for storytelling. Unlike the majority of people, they have traveled to many lands, been in the hands of extraordinary people, and have been the key players in all kinds of events and interactions. Take for instance, an ordinary five-dollar bill. To most, it is merely a means to an end. However, to others, a five-dollar bill is a story in and of itself, a story that requires an audience.
A burst of excited glee erupted from the partygoers as the next gift was unearthed from it’s colorful wrapping, “The Robotron 3000! Thank you grandma!”
The elderly woman in question smiled warmly at her grandson from a small spot of shade underneath an old oak tree.
Colorful box after colorful box was extricated from the ever-shrinking pile until a single item remained. At the very bottom of the immense pile of gifts laid a single blue card. The card was immediately snatched up and ripped open.
“Mama, read it please,” the boy thrust the card towards his hovering mother.
“Today is your special day. Do a jive because you’re five. It doesn’t say who it is from, however, whoever sent it gave you five dollars,” perplexed, the mother handed the card back to her son.
Awed ‘ohh’s’ were echoed through the gathering of children as the birthday boy held up the prized five-dollar bill. With a care and dexterity his still developing fingers seemed unable to accomplish, he folded the bill in half and shoved it in his back pocket.
The party began to wind down once the crumpled wrapping paper was collected and thrown away. Minivans and SUVs made their appearance in the driveway of the small split-level house, and parents ushered their sugar-high children back home.
Once the last child left, and the mess remaining from a dozen rambunctious children was tended to, the small family retired to their house for the evening. The single mother sighed in relief as she slumped in the old rocker.
“Mama, can we go to the store tomorrow?”
Peeking an eye open and eyeing her son, she smiled, “Whatever for my darling?”
“I wanna buy something with my five-dollar bill,” his eyes shone with unexpressed vigor.
“You just received a dozen new toys from the neighborhood children. Why don’t you put in your piggy bank?”
“I don’t wanna buy something for me silly. I want to buy grandma something. She looked so sad today,” the little boy climbed into his mother’s lap and snuggled close.
“She is sad my dear.”
“Does she miss grandpa?”
“She does,” the mother whispered.
“I want to buy her something pretty. So she’s not sad anymore.”
“She would like that. We’ll search for something tomorrow. How does that sound?” She smiled lovingly at her child curled up on her lab toying with a stray thread on his trousers.
“It sounds good,” he nodded, considering something for a moment, “Maybe we can also get something for daddy. So he can also be happy again and come back home.”
Unshed tears welled in the mother’s eyes, “Maybe, my dear, maybe.”
“This is perfect. Mama, how much is it?” The boy held up a figurine of a dolphin.
“It’s 6.50, a little too expensive. Remember you only have five dollars.”
He clutched his mother’s hand and kept searching up and down the aisles.
“How about this? Grandma will love this.”
His mother took the angel figurine from her son and inspected the price sticker affixed to the bottom, “She will adore this my dear. Would you like to get it for her? You have enough.”
He bounced upon the balls of his feet and nodded. Hand still encased within his mother’s, he carefully took the figurine from her hand and made his way to the checkout register.
Bonnie placed the magazine she had previously been perusing on the counter and rang up the boy’s purchase.
“That’ll be 4.95,” she took the now crumpled five-dollar bill from the small boy and in return placed a shiny nickel in his out-stretched palm, “Thank you for shopping at Harold’s.”
Mother and boy left with the boy jabbering away to his mother. Bonnie wistfully watched them leave the store wondering how her own son was faring with his adoptive family. Chester would be two by now and innocent of all the evils in the world
Another chime alerted Bonnie to another customer. As the morning panned out, more and more customers appeared, some making purchases and others just milling around gazing at the merchandise. Customer after customer filtered in and out of the store and pretty soon Bonnie’s shift would end. Minutes remained on the clock before she would clock out and head over to the local college for an afternoon of classes.
The chime on the door rang once again and Bonnie looked up smiling at her next customer. Yet, that smile quickly faded as her eyes registered the three men approaching the registers.
“Give me all your money and make it quick,” the taller man pulled a gun out from his back pocket and aimed it at Bonnie.
The other two men milled around the store stealing an item or two as Bonnie raced to deposit all the money from her register in the bag provided by the tall man.
“The safe in the back room, open it,” he demanded resting the tip of the gun on Bonnie’s temple.
“I-I don’t have the code,” she stammered as sweat ran down her back.
“Bullshit, open the damn safe girl.”
Bonnie began to shake as she haphazardly searched through the store manual behind the register in hopes of finding the safe’s code.
“I’m s-sorry, I don’t have the code.”
The man’s eyes darkened as he stepped around the counter and came face-to-face with Bonnie.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop bullshitting me.”
Bonnie fell to the ground as the man struck her in the face. His two companions returned from their looting and watched as the tall man harassed her.
“I-I swear, I d-don’t have the c-code. Please, don’t kill me,” tears ran down Bonnie’s face as the safety on the gun was released.
“I don’t believe you.”
Cool metal rested on Bonnie’s forehead as sobs strained her lungs.
A feral grin stretched across the tall man’s face while his two companions glanced at each other in morbid excitement.
“One more time, open the safe,” the tall man forced out between teeth clenched in anger.
“I don’t have-“ Bonnie was cut off by an ear splitting sound and she knew no more.
The three men raced from the store leaving the girl’s body strewn across the cold tiles. A bag clutched in the tall man’s hand banged against his leg as they sprinted across the parking lot, the bag, which contained a mere 75.38; a mere 75.38 taken in exchange for a human’s life.
“Welcome to First Street Bank, how may I help you?” She asked of the tall man whose dark eyes rested upon her face like lead weights.
“I’d like to make a deposit,” his monotone voice droned as his eyes bored holes through her.
“Alright sir, have you filled out a deposit form?” She inquired as feelings of wary trepidation welled up into her consciousness.
“Yes,” he deadpanned before sliding a yellow slip of paper along with an assortment of bills and coins over to the teller.
Sarah processed his deposit and handed the tall man his receipt.
“Alright, this shows you’ve just deposited 75.38 into your account,” she said indicating the receipt.
He grabbed the receipt from the teller’s hand and turned to leave.
“Have a nice day,” she called after him receiving a brusque grunt in return before her next customer stepped up to her window.
“Welcome to First Street Bank, how may I help you?” She asked of the next customer and with this, the ebb and flow of customers filtered through the bank until the bank closed.
It was this new case that Alex was currently mulling over. A young girl was murdered a few days ago at a local store. The killer’s motivation appeared to be for monetary gain, however, records showed that only 75.38 was in the register at the time of the armed robbery. If there was one thing Alexander was sure of, there was more to this case than a run of the mill robbery. A robber would not risk a count of murder on their record for a measly 75.38.
“Rebecca, do you know if there are photos for this case?” he asked of his secretary flipping through the case.
“Johnson didn’t give me any to give you, but I can go ask him if you want,” she offered.
“Could you?”
“Of course,” the petite brunette left the room in search of photos.
Moments later she returned with a manila folder, “He forgot to include them with the case.”
“Ah, thank you,” Alex took the manila folder from Rebecca and broke the seal. Out dropped five photos into his waiting hands.
Each of the photos showed a different angle of a young blond haired girl sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood. A blooming bruise covered the right side of her face. Alex sadly shook his head at each photo cursing whatever deity decided her life was to end for such a small amount of money. Things just did not add up with this case. Suspected motivation did not match up with the crime. Stumped moments were spent pondering the photos before Alex decided that if he were to continue working, he would need an immediate cup of coffee from Starbucks.
“Crap,” he muttered after inspecting his wallet as he walked out to his car.
If he were to fulfill his coffee craving, he would have to stop by the bank.
“Welcome to First Street Bank Drive-Through, how may we help you?” The teller asked of Alex.
Hastily he filled out a withdrawal slip and placed it in the plastic container before sending the container whooshing through the tube.
“Thank you for your service sir and have a nice day,” the teller’s disembodied voice echoed out of the speaker as he retrieved the 15.00 from the plastic container. As he placed the container back in its hold, his hand loosened the hold he had on the two bills. One fluttered to the passenger side floor. Reaching over, he managed to reach the five-dollar bill.
Alex thanked the teller and then drove off in search of a Starbucks.
The chain coffee house was empty as Alex sauntered in. After reviewing the menu board, he stepped up to the counter where a female employee was awaiting his order.
“I’ll have a mocha cappuccino, no cream please.”
She punched in his order, “That’ll be 6.95 sir.”
He handed her his ten-dollar bill and slipped the five back into his pocket. Moments later, change and coffee in hand, Alex left the store while mentally preparing himself for a day of murder investigation.
Keys found, Barty watched with interest as something faintly green drifted to the ground. Hope blossomed in Barty’s chest and prayed the man didn’t notice the fallen money. Thanking whoever was watching over him when the man sped away without picking up his dropped money, Barty clamored over and snatched up the five-dollar bill.
Relief flooded him at the thought of his next hit. The mind-numbing euphoria he knew he would succumb to drove his actions as he searched for his dealer.
“Jerry, give me your best shit,” Barty thrust the five-dollar bill into his dealer’s hand.
Jerry peered at the bill crumpled in his hand and sneered at the pathetic man standing before him, “What you playin’ at Barty? This ain’t gonna get you nothin’”
“Please,” Barty pleaded, “I’ll pay you back later.”
“Take yo pathetic ass elsewhere.” Jerry threw the five-dollar bill at Barty and then left.
At the prospect of not getting his needed high, Barty crumpled to the ground clutching the five-dollar bill like a lifeline. All he wanted was a little break from the never-ending urge overtaking his mind. He wanted, no needed the euphoric high. He’ll die without it; he was sure of it. Disheartened and defeated, Barty threw the five-dollar bill into the wind. He didn’t want anything to do with the bill if it couldn’t buy him a hit. He’d rather die.
“Grandma liked her present. She really did, didn’t she?” His hand encased in his mother’s swung back and forth as he peered up at his beloved mother.
“You made her very happy my dear, very very happy,” she smiled down at her son.
“Good,” he replied.
The two walked slowly down the street and rounded a corner. There, swirling in the wind was a five-dollar bill.
“Look mama,” the little boy pointed, “a five-dollar bill.”
“You are mighty lucky my darling, two five dollar bills in a week,” she replied.
The little boy scrambled to fetch the swirling bill. Once it was safe in his grasp, he once again joined his mother.
“What should we buy with this one?”
A smile graced the mother’s face as she replied, “We’ll see my dear.”
The little boy skipped alongside his mother as they continued their walk down the street, a five-dollar bill crumpled in his fist and dozens of ideas of ways to spend this five-dollar bill rotating in his mind.
-Sunne