Freedy impatiently paced the hallways of Filk's End, his huge feet noisily slapping down on the carpet and tile.
Plop, plop, plop, plop -- turn -- plop, plop, plop, plop -- turn...
Where was that damnable fellow? What was taking him so long?
Every time he nervously, jerkily dropped one of his precious inheritance into Stu's enormously threatening hands, he half expected the rotter to head for Mexico. But so far he'd always come back with his cocky smile, and hand Freedy the money as if he was doing him a favor.
Had to be done. Just that morning, he'd gotten a call from a bill collector, dunning him. Dunning Freedy Filkins of Filk's End!
A momentary stab of fear passed through him. He didn't do math. He didn't think about the future. Enjoy the now, he always said. But the bag of gems was getting lighter and lighter and if he was honest with himself, it was more than half empty after just a few years and he was, if not young, he was not old.
At first, he'd tried to hock one of his jewels by himself, and they'd offered him a pittance and laughed at the look in his face. He'd backed out of there, his face bright red, wanting to throw his coat over his head like a common criminal in fear that someone would recognize him.
On that horrid day, Stu was sitting at his stoop at the bottom of the hill as always, and the opportunistic fellow had coaxed the story out of Freedy.
"I tried to cash in one of my family heirlooms," Freedy told him, holding the bright blue sapphire up, where it caught a ray of sunlight and flashed.
Stu gasped and for a moment, Freedy was afraid he snag it out of his hand and start running. Maybe smash him in the head first. All he had to do was stand up and hammer his hands down on poor little Freedy. He backed up with a huff.
"An heirloom, eh?" he'd said, giving Freedy a knowing look. Everyone in the neighborhood had heard the story of the disgraceful Tessie and her ill-gotten riches. "Let me give it a go, what do you say? Hows about 10% for me troubles?"
So every few months, Stu would amble off to whatever sources he had and return a few hours later, looking as if he'd just eaten and been laid and consumed drugs -- all of which he probably had. But Freedy had to admit the ruffian got more money than he'd been offered. He also suspected that Stu was taking more than 10%. Hell, it could have been 50% for all Freedy knew.
The alternative of being laughed at was just too shameful, and Freedy took whatever Stu offered.
He also put a great deal of thought into how to hide his stash.
He'd been as clever, put more thought into the hiding place, than he'd ever been about anything.
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[Every time he nervously, jerkily dropped one of his precious inheritance into Stu's enormously threatening hands, he half expected the rotter to head for Mexico. But so far he'd always come back with his cocky smile, and hand Freedy the money as if he was doing him a favor.] :)
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