Money Can't Buy Happiness
"How's it goin' shortman?" Phil asked, seeing Arnold head towards his bedroom.
"Alright I guess." Arnold sighed, walking into the living room.
The elderly man looked away from his paper to see the troubled look on the young boys face. "Bad day?"
"Well, Helga shot spitballs at me, Harold complained about not having enough to eat at lunch, Stinky didn't understand what was going on in class, and Rhonda bragged about her clogs she got to match her red sweater. I guess it was pretty normal." he sighed, leaning back against the couch.
"New clogs eh? That classmate of yours seems to go through more outfits than Pookey!" Phil exclaimed.
"Yeah. She likes to make sure everyone knows how rich she is." Arnold explained, as he leaned back on the couch with his hands folded on his stomach, not finding anything unusual about the story.
"You know, I learned a long time ago that money can't always buy you happiness." Phil began, as his grandson continued to sit and listen.
"One day Jimmy Kafka and I decided to see a Black Sox game. It was the last game of the season! When we made it to the stadium, the tickets were sold out. Jimmy and I stood there a while until he noticed a scalper."
"What did you do?" Arnold asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"We went over to the ticket scalper and ended up paying twice what the tickets were worth. I should say ten times what they were worth, because the assigned seating for them was directly behind a pole. Neither of us saw anything going on in the game." Phil laughed, while Arnold rolled his eyes at the story.
"So your money was wasted."
"Yes, but I learned a few good lessons from that incident: Don't talk to strangers, Look up the seating chart for the ball game, and Don't gamble your money until you're 21!" Phil warned the unamused boy.
Arnold stood to head for his bedroom and replied "Thanks grandpa."
"Anytime shortman!"