Tizzy's blogfest is to celebrate reaching 50 followers on her Impossible Dreams blog. The idea is to create something with 50 as the theme. My entry is a short little story. After you've read mine make sure you go to Tizzy's site to find the other entries and read them as well.
The Big Five O
Maybe she had listened one too many times to Paul Simon's "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover". Or maybe she had realized that she was still a relatively young hot babe and I had just turned fifty.
Sure, back when we had gotten married everyone was telling me I was making a mistake. Some suggested I was using 50% of my brain in thinking out this marriage thing--maybe I wasn't thinking with my brain at all. Now I had gained fifty pounds and she had gained some devious knowledge of how to separate me from nearly everything I owned.
So on my fiftieth birthday I was handed divorce papers drawn up by the $99 paralegal who was offering a $50 special. Oh yeah, they all thought it was fair and equitable. It was a fifty-fifty split--she got the assets and I got the debt.
At least I got the pick-up truck--a 1988 Ford F-150 that had seen better days. It had sat in the back yard barely used anymore, but it still ran. I won't say it that the truck was not very dependable, but I wouldn't have wanted to go more than fifty miles from home in it. It was not very economical to drive either. I guess it got fifty gallons per mile. Okay, I exaggerate, but I never left a gas station without having to pay at least fifty dollars.
Believe me, I was not thrilled when I got the notice from the DMV that the registration renewal was due and I would have to get the truck smog checked. They gave me sixty days, but of course I procrastinated until fifty days had passed and I decided that I'd better get it done so I wouldn't have to pay the fifty dollar penalty
At the smog check station I was nervous that the truck might not pass the inspection and would require major repairs. If that were the case I would have been just as well to roll the truck off a fifty foot cliff and forget about it. But to my relief the truck passed. I handed the smog inspection guy a fifty dollar bill and he handed me a penny. My next stop would be the DMV.
Going to the DMV would be high on my list of the top fifty places I hate to go. I usually end up waiting at least fifty minutes whenever I have to go there. When I arrived, there were maybe fifty people waiting to take a number. I looked up at the digital counter to see which number was being served and noted that it read 750.
From past experience I was aware that there was a number cycle that ended at 999 and then started over at one. Since I estimated that there had been about fifty people ahead of me to pick up a number and from the looks of the waiting area there were maybe another fifty or so already there, I would probably be getting a number somewhere around 850. That meant that this was going to take much longer than fifty minutes today.
I could only hope that my estimation was wrong. Please let my number be less than 850, I thought to myself. When I reached the number dispenser I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and then took a number. I opened my eyes and looked at the ticket in my hand--50.
50 * 50 * 50 * 50 * 50 * 50
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