REGGIE'S DAY

Reginald P. Thenslow came out of his mansion and made a beeline for his limousine. At the grand bank building that bore his name, he made a beeline from the limousine to the front door. That was two beelines and it was enough for the day. At lunchtime he did not call his driver but instead went for a stroll around the block. The second corner brought him a strange sight, an old man planting a plum tree. Reginald P. Thenslow was not ancient himself, but he had felt the first stirrings of mortality, and the sight of the old man pulled a string within him. “You there,” he said, “what’s with this tree? You don’t imagine that you’ll be around long enough to eat from it, do you?” The old man straightened up as much as he could. “You never know,” he said. “If I don’t eat them, my son will.” Reginald P. Thenslow clicked his heels impatiently. “But you do know,” he said. “How old are you?” The old man began to count on his fingers. “I am ninety-nine,” he said. Thenslow bugged his eyes comically. “My word,” he said. “Well, listen, old man, I must be on my way, but if you get to the point where you are eating plum from this tree, make sure you tell me.” He went back to the office. A year later, a knock came on the door of the bank, after hours. The guards opened it. It was the old man, even grayer and more stooped. Slung over his shoulder was a sack. “I have come to tell the bank man that I lived to see the plums,” he said. He would have been dismissed as a raving mendicant had Reginald P. Thenslow not prepared his guards. “Please come in,” said a guard. They ushered him to Reginald P. Thenslow’s office. Reginald P. Thenslow was overjoyed to see the man. “My word,” he said. “You did it!” He instructed his guards to empty the sack of plums and instead fill it with money. “It is for you and your son,” he said. The old man thanked Reginald P. Thenslow and departed. A guard followed him home to ensure he was safe. Around the block, an old woman witnessed the old man’s arrival. She was intrigued by what she saw and instructed her husband to fill a sack with plums and go to the bank. He did. The guards let him in and then, on Reginald P. Thenslow’s instruction, pelted him with his plums. He ran home. His wife greeted him not with harsh words but instead covered him with kisses. “It could have been worse,” she said. “I am thankful the old man did not plant a coconut tree.”

©2020 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas