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MEET YOUR NEIGHBORS: Paula

“My journey pursuing legal status in the US took over 10 years, and thousands and thousands of dollars. During this time spent waiting and pursuing each next step, I became deeply interested in telling stories about the immigrants that I met...”

ICYMI: In Case You Missed It

Just 20 delectable selectables from the store. Go on.

STORYTIME: Mike the Moneyman

Mike the Moneyman was a misnomer. He was called the Moneyman because he was no good at it.

He could spot a counterfeit bill “from a mile away”. Like how he would trade a two dollar bill to someone for a one because “who the hell is Thomas Jefferson”. Or he could do quick math in his head such as paying the $200 when he landed on income-tax in Monopoly because “10% was more”.

He really shined with his slots scheme. Mike the Moneyman combed the floors of the race track looking for tossed winners. He would spend hours upon hours to find a few three-buck tickets. He would cash them in and play the slots. Time was indeed money. But Mike almost never won. Since he was spending other people’s money, he’d never lost either. To him, he was ahead.

The last and only time he hit it big on his slots scheme, he won three hundred dollars at Resorts. “I’m rich! Time to treat myself.” Mike the Moneyman could think of only one thing, “I’ll go play slots at Foxwoods”.

To save money on the trip, Mike rented a car from the guy who everyone knows never submits the liability coverage payments. Mike the Moneyman promised him a cut of the winnings instead of cash. Two hours in, around Shelton, Connecticut, the hood started to smoke.

“It’ll be three-hundred and it’ll take a day”, said the only mechanic in town. The mechanic doesn’t take payment in future slot earnings. Mike the Moneyman handed over his Resorts winnings and left to go find a place for the night.

Mike the Moneyman walked about two football fields, eyeing the ground. No one’s horse betting in Shelton. Mike saw a sign which read, “Board for apples”. Behind the sign was a long stretch of gravel leading to a farm. At the end of the path was a man standing in the door frame with a glowing look on his face.

“What is this place?”, asked Mike.

“Like the sign said. You sleep, we get apples”, said the farmer.

“Sure, I guess. Where do I sign up?”, said Mike.

With a wooden basket held to Mike’s chest, the farmer sold him on apples “you can make cider, you can make wine, you can make vinegar”. But Mike the Moneyman didn’t hear about money so he faded out of the pitch. Still, he put his stuff down on a cot, trudged over to the closest apple tree with his basket, and picked his first apple.

Right here, had Mike the Moneyman’s car been near, he would have booted the apple to left field and drove out of there. Yet his mind drifted again as he picked a second and third apple. Now his basket of three apples reminded him of the triple cherry in slots. He picked with a fury. Lady luck was with him. He hit three apples over and over again until the moon was clear above.

“Mate. It’s time to sleep. Let’s see what ya got though”, said the farmer. “Crazy. This here is a record for apples picked. Well, rest up and we’ll see you in the morning”.

The next morning, Mike the Moneyman was awoken to the sound of nothing. Tucked under his pillow was an envelope. “Bit off more than you chew. Good luck with your car”, read a card. Mike the Moneyman fanned out eighty-seven bucks. Right in the middle of the fan was a Thomas Jefferson. Mike sat up; his whole body sore as a kid’s finger jammed in a doorway. He squeezed the envelope into his pocket, mashed his feet into his shoes and shuffled back to the mechanic.

“Here’re your keys. Maybe we’ll see you on your return from Foxwoods,” the mechanic said. “If you’re hard out, I’m sure the apple farm could use ya.”

Mike the Moneyman pulled out of the garage. He drove back the two hundred yards he’d just left. Then drove up the gravel driveway he just shuffled down. There was the farmer, standing in the door frame.

“Back so soon?”, crowed the farmer. “What gives?”

“All the money’s in apples,” Mike the Moneyman said with pride. “Did you know you could make cider with apples; wine; even vinegar”.