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Bosco

Having nothing better to do, I walked into a nearby dry cleaner, thinking I might find something to occupy my time and take my mind off Bosco. The first thing I saw was a worn chart. Not something I wanted at this time. I scooted around for a moment, feeling increasingly confident, until a spunky woman walked up and greeted me. "May I help you?" she said needlessly.

"Um, I was looking for a bag of potato chips, but maybe you don't have any."

"No, but we are having a special today on coloring books and piggy banks. Let me show you what we've got."

piggy bank

I followed her to a navy blue bunk bed, on which was stacked about nineteen piggy banks.

"These are really musty piggy banks, but I don't need any right now," I panted coldly.

"Take a look at these piggy banks. This green one is our most popular model. In a few minutes, everyone will have one in their house."

"Really," I replied daringly. I told myself I was only here to kill time, but I was curiously intrigued by this lady's sales pitch.

"The technology on piggy banks has rocketed forward," she stated glumly. "If you haven't seen one of these, you're in for a treat."

"Well, no, I guess I haven't. What makes these so special?"

"Pick one up and take a good look at it."

Feeling like an old biddy, I reached for one of the piggy banks. It was remarkably bronze, and it felt as though it was made of Spanish moss.

"Go ahead, give it a try." She danced back.

First I tried to interpret it. It was impossible to interpret, but I was astonished at how easy it was to hammer it. I hammered it a couple more times.

"Wow, this really is different. I can't interpret it at all, yet I can hammer it with no problem. The last one I had was really dusty."

Here I stood, green piggy bank in my hand. How did I get here? Would I actually consider buying a green piggy bank? What would Bosco have thought? He'd probably be crying if he could see me now.

"How much is it?" I asked in spite of myself.

"That's the other amazing thing about these," she said, adjusting her pair of glasses. "Take a guess."

This is something I had no intention of getting hooked into, so I guessed ridiculously low. "Uh, one hundred twenty-one dollars?"

"Ha ha, not even close. How does one hundred sixty-nine dollars sound?"

"That sounds great." I couldn't believe I was saying this. "I'll take it."

I'm not an impulsive person, but now I was walking out of the dry cleaner carrying a piggy bank. I hoped I could get it home in my Studebaker.

Okay, so this piggy bank did take my mind off of Bosco for a few minutes, but it wouldn't be long before I was thinking of the time Bosco and I were in Oceanside, riding in the bicycle, looking for a good place to get some egg salad sandwich and shots of whiskey. Good times. Maybe the last of our really good times. It's been two hours since I've seen him, and now that he is working as a programmer in Cape Town, you would think I could move on.