Ongoing Thread: The story of a ten-dollar bill.

Not long ago, the said 10 dollar bill was made at the Federal Reserve with a special thread of Infinity enclosed in it…

But how will this effect the journey and adventures of the picture of Hamilton? To what bounds and places will this bill go and to what lenghs will whatever controls the cosmos exceed to keep this bill in movement…or to stop it entirely?

Our story begins where our fiver left off. A ten dollar bill, serial number ending in 39P, gets distributed that day to a man wearing a tweed jacket and a bowler hat. He takes out his wallet, and buries it into the dark recesses of the folds.

…Where it stayed for all of 26 minutes. Going to the feedmarket, he pulls it out, buying the item he needs most right then, which happens to be…

…a replacement nipple cover for his Scandinavian milking machine. He walks out of the store, avoiding Boris the Carpathian, who is coming in the other door. Boris (who despite his name had been born in Los Angeles) is a crashing bore, and the man in the bowler hat much prefers to get back to his truck and his family.

Boris wanders around the store. He is feeling lonely and a bit miffed that the girl he had attempted to chat up on had logged off when he was just getting into a good discussion of libration modes. He attempts to say hi to the cute young stockist, but she says nothing and continued to bundle newspapers for recycling.

Suddenly he remembers what he’d come in for: the TV guide. He goes to the magazine rack, pulls a copy out, and checks it carefully to make sure that all the page headers are congruent. The magazine is no good otherwise. Sloppy compositing had been happining a lot lately; in his last letter of complaint, Boris had noted that the left margin was overbroad by almost a millimetre.

The magazine looks good. Boris follows his usual route to the checkout, and pays with a twenty (but not one of the new ones). He receives 39P as part of $7.86 in change, and carefully inserts it into his wallet. He leaves the store…

…and gets run over by a truck.

The injuries are only superficial, though, and Boris dresses to leave. He idly flips through his wallet and notices the 10 is missing.

The bill was in the g-string of a dancer in the Sixth Street Club-A-Go-Go.

Her wild gyrations were noticed by…

the shy guy standing at the bar clear at the end.
He stayed and wathced her all night, and at close he finally got the nerve to ask her name. She said it was Starry Nite. He asked her to breakfast and she accepted. They talked for hours over coffee. Before they left the all night cafe, the dancer noticed the frustrated look on the waitress’ face, and left the 39P as a tip.

The waitress takes 39P and stuffs it in her matress. Later that night it is found by…

… Rocco, the burglar who had broken into the apartment she rents. The unit is in the back of an old two-story house, and on the first floor, so all Rocco had to do was cut the patio screen and waltz in. Since Rocco’s been “in the business” for a few years, he knows that mattresses, sock drawers, and refrigerators are all good places to look for cash. Rocco also made off with a TV, DVD player, and some jewelry. He then took the goods to Benny, his fence/bookie, and used 39P to place a $10 bet on…

…the Cubs going to the World Series. He loses, of course, and Benny the Bookie keeps 39P. The next day, he makes a run to his dope dealer. 39P gets passed, along with several other bills, to a overweight, fifty-ish guy named Larry. Larry the marijuana dealer then hops into his truck and…

…heads across the bridge. Unfortunalrely, the truck breaks down on the bridge, causing a massive cascading traffic jam that snarls all major arteries in the Tristate Area. An angry Larry uses 39P to pay the tow-truck driver that eventually comes to rescue his stricken truck.

At the end of the day, the tow truck driver heads off to Midtown Billiards to relax and shoot a few games. He pays for a beer at the bar with 39P. The bartender puts 39P into the till, but it doesn’t remain there for long. A few moments later…

Christina the pool shark comes in. She pays for a beer with a twenty, and gets 39P with her change. She looks around and spots a likely candidate, a short guy who looks a little like Tom Cruise. She challenges him to a game of 9-ball for ten dollars and he accepts. She racks, he breaks - and the 9-ball goes in on the break! She disgustedly flings 39P at “Tom,” and stomps out…

Tom chuckles, picks up 39P and stuffs it into his too tight blue jeans. “Any other takers?” he says loudly as he hooks a thumb onto his belt? “I’m feeling kinda lucky tonight.”

No takers in that bar, so Tom leaves and goes across town to another bar. He runs into his wife, who was there with her boyfriend. A big fight ensues. As Tom laid passed out on the bar floor, his wife riffles through his wallet taking the 39P.

Tom’s wife, Marcie, and her boyfriend, Coby, run out of the bar, jump into their brand-new Nissan Murano (paid for in part by Marcie’s divorce settlement), and peel out of the car park.

Marcie was still a little pissed. The divorce papers were only just final, and here was that oaf Tom harassing her again. But she’d showed him and his lame pseudo-Western ways. No real Western man would be so vulnerable in a barfight; evidently her urban-chick street smarts were superior after all… not that she’d doubted it.

Marcie smiles, and turns to Coby. “Doing anything for the next ten minutes?” Coby grins. They pull in at a Kwik-E-Mart, run in, and buy applesauce and ice. Marcie pays with 39P. They run out again, climb back into the Murano, fire up the six-speaker surround-sound system, and lower the leather seats.

Shortly thereafter the windows start to fog.

the mart attendant gets fed up with his low-low wages, and takes to stealing from the till, including the 39P. He later gets fired by his boss, who realises the books dont balance.

The clerk they failed to recognize was Shelby, one of Tom’s cousins. She had watched Marcie and the guy with her with growing suspicion. Noting the way they held each other and the various pokes, kisses and touches they were unleashing on one another, she became disgusted.

She’d only met Marcie once, and that was at last year’s Christmas party. Now here she was, apparently cheating on her husband. Well, he had a right to know.

After they paid and left, Shelby picks up the phone and dials Tom’s home phone. It rings and rings until the familiar voices on the answering machine come on.

"*Hi! You’ve reached Tom…

Female voice: And Marcie!

Together: We’re not home right now!

Randon giggling*

Shelby hung up before the beep came.

Dammit. She’d have to take a cab over there after work, which wasn’t for another 30 minutes. And that meant she needed money too. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time she’s “borrowed” money from the till. She’d just pay it back after she recieved her next check.

At 10:30 she opens the regester and pulls out the still crisp 39P. That ought to be enough to pay for a fare.

Outside, she hails the first taxi she sees…

Okay, we have a simulpost to deal with here, so I’ll pick up where Idle Thoughts left off.

The taxi is being driven by Drazen, a recent immigrant from Croatia. Fortunately, he speaks English well, so Shelby can understand him readily (and I don’t have to attempt to reproduce a Croat accent).

“Where to, miss?”

“683 Jackson Avenue. Know where that is?”

“As it happens, I live right across the street. Some guy named Tom owns the house, right?”

“Yes, and his wife – though she’s really just a two-bit whore – whoops, I shouldn’t be saying things like that to someone I just met.”

“No problem, miss – this cab isn’t equipped with a hidden camera or microphone. What you say stays with me.”

After about fiften minutes of similarly mundane conversation, the taxi pulls up in front of Tom’s two-story Colonial. “Too bad I’m on 'til 6 a.m., or I could just pull into my driveway and hit the hay,” Drazen quips.

Shelby pays her fare with 39P, as well as a few smaller bills. She factors an appropriate tip into the exchange, walks up the driveway, and rings the bell. Meanwhile, the two-way radio in the cab crackles to life, and the dispatcher barks out an order to Drazen…

Hate to hijack this rolling thread, but has anyone seen the move Twenty Bucks? It’s about a $20 bill, and the hands it passes through. Not bad, I guess…

“Attention B404…Drazen, you there?”
“Copy, what’s the news?”
crackle, fizz…“On the Police channel there’s a report of a wanted criminal in the area you’re currently driving. Just be aware. Decription of a small female, black hair, blue eyes, and wearing a red shirt. She’s on the suspicion of murder, so proceed and pick up fares with caution.”
Drazen stares after Shelby as she stands outside the door.

Black hair…red shirt on…and he could have sworn he saw a flash of blue as she was getting into the car from her eyes. In his surprise he drops the reciever and 39P at the same time. The CB reciever thumps lazily against the radio and 39P drifts slowly to the floor of the cab.

Was he looking at a wanted and dangerous felon? Or just a coincedence?..

Just a coincidence, Drazen thought. She seemed like such a nice lady, and she’d given him a good tip. As Drazen drove away, a woman ran out into the street in front of him. Several policemen were chasing her. The woman was Marcie! She was the person wanted for murder! Before Drazen could react, he hit her. Marcie went flying over the windshield and landed in a heap by the side of the road.

Eventually, the invesitagion would establish that Marcie had killed her new boyfriend. It wasn’t really murder, however, but an ill-planned erotic stunt involving the apple sause, a road map of Wyoming, and her car’s tire iron. When the stunt went awry, a meter maid heard Coby’s screaming, and when she saw Marcie and her dead lover, she assumed that Marcie had murdered him. Marcie paniced and ran away, and ended up getting run over by Drazen.

Now however, the paramedics arrived and pronounced Marcie dead. The police let Drazen go, but since he was so shaken up he stopped at a nearby bar to grab a quick drink. He paid with 39P. While Drazen was still sitting there with his drink, the door to the bar opened and in walked…

…an attractive woman in a denim skirt, ecru cotton blouse, and soft looking deer skin western style boots.

Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a crucifix on a gold chain around her neck.

Her blouse was unbuttonned quite a bit, and the chain with the crucifix was a bit long, so it looked like the tiny gold Jesus was nestled between two pale mountains, her large and unholsterd breasts.

She looked in the eye and walked right to him, saying, “I’ve been looking to this for quite a long time.”

Her voice was very melodious, with just a hint of a Texas drawl. The slight overbite she had made her look somewhat like a teenaged schoolgirl. But, her manner was very sophisticated, despite her casual appearance.

“What do you mean?” asked Drazen, rustling the keys in his jacket pocket.

“You don’t remember?” she countered. “Well, perhaps this will ring a bell,” and she pulls a photo from out the distressed leather purse slung over her shoulder. It was a photo of…

Drazen and her with their arms interlocked. Yes…Now it was all coming back to him…

This was the girl who he had as a one night stand 2 years ago on the Spring Break weekend.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time. I must admit, you were one of my better lovers. What say we go up to my motel room and get to know one another again. That is…if you don’t have any current, shall we say, agendas?”
Drazen was hypnotized by her hazel eyes. One lock of blonde hair hung in front of the right one.

“Wh- Well-,” he stammered, “Let me just finish this drink. Er…can I buy you one?”
She smiled a sultry smile. “No thanks, I can manage myself. Slippery Nipple.” She told the bartender while handing him a twenty, and letting the name of the drink roll off her tongue seductively while looking at Drazen.

“I’m sorry…I, ah, don’t seem to remember your name.” Drazen said, sheepishly.
The drink was placed in front of her and she accepted the change from the bartender, one of which was the 39P ten. Putting the change in her purse she answers: "My name? You really don’t remember my name? Funny, it being so original and all. It’s…