6. WHEN YOU'RE HAVING ONE OF THOSE DAYS, EVEN A DOLLAR CAN GET
YOU INTO TROUBLE...
"Oh, well," I sighed as I walked along. "At least I'm a dollar richer than when
I started."
"Hey you, stop! Thief! That's my bag, thief!"
"What?" I gasped as someone grabbed the empty bag from my hands. I spun around.
"And
you owe me a dollar for the rental on it, thief!"
"Rental, what..."
"You saw the sign! What, you think I give them away!"
"Sign?"
"Don't play dumb with me. The sign at my Laundromat. Plain as day on the wall.
Above the washers where it's always been for the last twenty-six years."
"I don't know anything about a sign!"
The man whipped out a sign from behind his back. It glared in pink and green neon
letters that sent my head spinning.
"LAUNDRY
BAGS $1 PER HOUR."
"Look,
mister. I'm sorry. I found this bag. It...well, it fell out of the sky. I wasn't
in your Laundromat."
"Kid, give me a dollar, or I'll call a cop."
"OK, OK!" I gasped, and quickly handed him the dollar.
"And don't ever come to my Laundromat again. You're not welcome there," the old
man growled. He shoved the twenty foot sign into the laundry bag, and dragged
it back down the street, leaving me penniless on the same corner where I had stood
hours ago, when I wished I had an extra dollar.
