“Grandfather started giving me an allowance.” I confessed.
“Since when? I thought you said you hated him.” Bertha asked.
“I do.” I said back to her, “But I’m not going to refuse free money.”
“So you don’t have to do anything for it?” Bertha asked.
“You mean like chores and such?” I asked in like some sort of Tennessee hillbilly and answered, “No, he just walked up to me while I was eating my breakfast, lifted my hand, turned it over, and plopped into it a wad of cash.”
BB began to put his arm around my shoulders as if he was suddenly my best friend.
“He said that it was time he started giving me an allowance.” I shared.