Flat broke

I was up at the Emory Clinic this morning and I was getting ready to leave. I knew I’d have to pay for parking, so I opened my wallet for some cash or a debit card, and there was nothing there. It was as bare as a cooch dancer’s midriff, to quote Foghorn Leghorn.

Now, just two days ago, in addition to the debit card, there was $30 in cash in my wallet. I had not spent a red cent in the meantime. So, it should have still been there. But it wasn’t.

There are three other people who live at my house, plus my dog Lucky. All three humans have denied taking the money. Lucky was mum on the subject, but I don’t suspect her. She might steal a biscuit out of a grizzly bear’s mouth, but she has no use for money.

Apparently, the $30 just took wings and flew out of my wallet. I hope it found its way to somebody who needs it. As for the debit card, it somehow was in my wife’s possession. My debit card has my photo on it, so I don’t know what good it would do her. She’s never, to my knowledge, even sported a goatee.

Luckily, the nice people at Emory gave me a token for free parking when I explained my predicament. I’m glad they did, because I was going to have to go to Plan B, which was to say, “Wow, the doctor just told me I have two weeks to live, and now this happens.”

I should be used to money flying out of my wallet by now, as I have two kids in high school, and every day I’m shelling out money for something – senior dues, football dues, parking dues. Cheerleading is the worst – last year my daughter was a cheerleader, and it cost approximately $500,000. You could buy a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader for what I spent on cheerleading (trust me, I looked it up, but figured I didn’t have anywhere to put her).

Earlier this year, I had to buy an ad for my son for the football program, then join the booster club, and all this AFTER shelling about $400 just for him to have the privilege to play football. Maybe he’ll get a lot better and bigger and go somewhere where they’ll actually pay HIM to play, like Florida or Alabama.

Now I am told that I need to purchase an ad for the high school yearbook, since my daughter is a senior. This ad costs roughly the same as a new Buick. And I was made to believe that if I didn’t purchase this ad, I would be the worst father this side of MacKenzie Phillips’ dad.

My daughter informed me the other day that she was going shopping. Interesting, I said. For what?

A new outfit, she said.

Then I asked the most important question – with what? So she gave me that “daddy’s little girl” smile, and once again my wallet parted like the Red Sea.

I guess I’ve learned a valuable lesson. From now on, I’m inspecting my wallet before I leave the house, or maybe I’ll just start hiding money in the freezer, like my mom used to do. I always thought that was crazy, but now, I understand.