Real Estate Boy

by John Schoneboom

Father was known as a bit of a scalawag but he had only ever surreptitiously removed things from four people. It was all for his son Jenkins -- or so he told himself when he drank his lonely hot chocolate in the morning. Jenkins had made it known that he wanted his own room as a matter of urgency. The boy had even been seen speaking in subdued tones to real estate agents around town.

Father had no idea what to do next. He adored young Jenkins but there was no way he could afford a bigger house. Without any ideas of his own, he decided to ask Bucky the Screw a few questions and see if that could shake loose a few options.

Long story short, a con job here, a caper there, and before long Father had pulled together the greenbacks to get Jenkins any room he wanted.

"Well kid, what do you say?" said Father. "The semi-detached? Split level? Ranch? You name it."

Jenkins looked at his father and meditated briefly on greed.

"No thanks," he said. "I've actually sold a lot of moonshine and walked Mrs. Blompkins dog a lot, and I managed to buy my own caravan. I'm going to live there, if you don't mind. Thanks though."

And with that, he took his leave, leaving his father amused and dumbfounded, but happy.
Father was known as a bit of a scalawag but he had only ever surreptitiously removed things from four people. It was all for his son Jenkins -- or so he told himself when he drank his lonely hot chocolate in the morning. Jenkins had made it known that he wanted his own room as a matter of urgency. The boy had even been seen speaking in subdued tones to real estate agents around town.

Father had no idea what to do next. He adored young Jenkins but there was no way he could afford a bigger house. Without any ideas of his own, he decided to ask Bucky the Screw a few questions and see if that could shake loose a few options.

Long story short, a con job here, a caper there, and before long Father had pulled together the greenbacks to get Jenkins any room he wanted.

"Well kid, what do you say?" said Father. "The semi-detached? Split level? Ranch? You name it."

Jenkins looked at his father and meditated briefly on greed.

"No thanks," he said. "I've actually sold a lot of moonshine and walked Mrs. Blompkins dog a lot, and I managed to buy my own caravan. I'm going to live there, if you don't mind. Thanks though."

And with that, he took his leave, leaving his father amused and dumbfounded, but happy.
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