| Humor Fiction posted November 24, 2021 |
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It could've happened this way
Everybody Get's a Parting Gift
by Earl Corp
Growing up in my family was weird.
I’m not talking about anything like incest or abuse. My Mom was a loving woman who made sure we had three hots and a cot. Our home was warm and snug and there was plenty of love.
But then there was the case of my dad.
Dad was an English teacher who grew up in Washington State. He’d also served in the Army with his proudest accomplishment making it through jump school and serving in the 101st Airborne in the early 1960s.
How we got to PA was dad hitchhiked here from Kentucky, met mom, and stayed.
But that all changed November 24, 1971,
A man using the alias D.B. Cooper hijacked a Boeing 727 from Portland to Seattle. He received $200,000 and four parachutes. Somewhere over Washington he and the money exited the aircraft.
This is when things got weird at home.
As far as we knew at the time, Dad was at deer hunting camp in Tionesta, and wouldn’t be home until the following Tuesday. Dad got home Monday night but he hadn’t had any luck, no deer. That was the first time in a long time he hadn’t bagged a buck.
We went back to school on Tuesday and didn’t think anything about it. At least not until the FBI showed up at school to talk to dad. They were interviewing any Washington State natives who had graduated jump school in the 1960s as D.B. Cooper suspects.
Everyone who knew my dad laughed at this. He wasn’t some gung-ho snake eater; he’d been a clerk in the Army. Now he was a teacher who produced student plays. It was hilarious that they thought he was this larger than life outlaw.
After the FBI left satisfied it wasn’t Dad it became the running joke in town that Dad was secretly D.B. Cooper. My mother thought it was great and started calling him D.B. My brother and I took a lot of ribbing and questions about it. We’d tell everybody, “Hey, we’ve never seen a dime of that money.”
And we hadn’t.
Fast forward to last Monday.
We just buried Dad today, that was hard. Then things got weird again.
At the wake Mom handed me an envelope and said, “Your father wanted you to have this.”
I tore open the envelope and read the note in my Dad’s handwriting:
Dear Earl,
Go to the base of the red maple in the back yard and dig on the west side and all will be revealed.
Love,
Dad
What the Hell?
I grabbed a shovel and went to the back and found the maple and started to dig. At about the three-foot mark I hit something. Brushing the dirt away I found a metal box. I lifted it out and there was some heft to it.
I opened the box and found stacks of greenbacks with another envelope on top.
I grasped the envelope and tore it open then read the note inside:
Dear Earl,
The Statute of limitations has run out, now you’ve seen it quit saying you haven’t. Enjoy!
D.B. Cooper (Dad)
~Family Story ~ Fiction writing prompt entry
Growing up in my family was weird.
I’m not talking about anything like incest or abuse. My Mom was a loving woman who made sure we had three hots and a cot. Our home was warm and snug and there was plenty of love.
But then there was the case of my dad.
Dad was an English teacher who grew up in Washington State. He’d also served in the Army with his proudest accomplishment making it through jump school and serving in the 101st Airborne in the early 1960s.
How we got to PA was dad hitchhiked here from Kentucky, met mom, and stayed.
But that all changed November 24, 1971,
A man using the alias D.B. Cooper hijacked a Boeing 727 from Portland to Seattle. He received $200,000 and four parachutes. Somewhere over Washington he and the money exited the aircraft.
This is when things got weird at home.
As far as we knew at the time, Dad was at deer hunting camp in Tionesta, and wouldn’t be home until the following Tuesday. Dad got home Monday night but he hadn’t had any luck, no deer. That was the first time in a long time he hadn’t bagged a buck.
We went back to school on Tuesday and didn’t think anything about it. At least not until the FBI showed up at school to talk to dad. They were interviewing any Washington State natives who had graduated jump school in the 1960s as D.B. Cooper suspects.
Everyone who knew my dad laughed at this. He wasn’t some gung-ho snake eater; he’d been a clerk in the Army. Now he was a teacher who produced student plays. It was hilarious that they thought he was this larger than life outlaw.
After the FBI left satisfied it wasn’t Dad it became the running joke in town that Dad was secretly D.B. Cooper. My mother thought it was great and started calling him D.B. My brother and I took a lot of ribbing and questions about it. We’d tell everybody, “Hey, we’ve never seen a dime of that money.”
And we hadn’t.
Fast forward to last Monday.
We just buried Dad today, that was hard. Then things got weird again.
At the wake Mom handed me an envelope and said, “Your father wanted you to have this.”
I tore open the envelope and read the note in my Dad’s handwriting:
Dear Earl,
Go to the base of the red maple in the back yard and dig on the west side and all will be revealed.
Love,
Dad
What the Hell?
I grabbed a shovel and went to the back and found the maple and started to dig. At about the three-foot mark I hit something. Brushing the dirt away I found a metal box. I lifted it out and there was some heft to it.
I opened the box and found stacks of greenbacks with another envelope on top.
I grasped the envelope and tore it open then read the note inside:
Dear Earl,
The Statute of limitations has run out, now you’ve seen it quit saying you haven’t. Enjoy!
D.B. Cooper (Dad)
I’m not talking about anything like incest or abuse. My Mom was a loving woman who made sure we had three hots and a cot. Our home was warm and snug and there was plenty of love.
But then there was the case of my dad.
Dad was an English teacher who grew up in Washington State. He’d also served in the Army with his proudest accomplishment making it through jump school and serving in the 101st Airborne in the early 1960s.
How we got to PA was dad hitchhiked here from Kentucky, met mom, and stayed.
But that all changed November 24, 1971,
A man using the alias D.B. Cooper hijacked a Boeing 727 from Portland to Seattle. He received $200,000 and four parachutes. Somewhere over Washington he and the money exited the aircraft.
This is when things got weird at home.
As far as we knew at the time, Dad was at deer hunting camp in Tionesta, and wouldn’t be home until the following Tuesday. Dad got home Monday night but he hadn’t had any luck, no deer. That was the first time in a long time he hadn’t bagged a buck.
We went back to school on Tuesday and didn’t think anything about it. At least not until the FBI showed up at school to talk to dad. They were interviewing any Washington State natives who had graduated jump school in the 1960s as D.B. Cooper suspects.
Everyone who knew my dad laughed at this. He wasn’t some gung-ho snake eater; he’d been a clerk in the Army. Now he was a teacher who produced student plays. It was hilarious that they thought he was this larger than life outlaw.
After the FBI left satisfied it wasn’t Dad it became the running joke in town that Dad was secretly D.B. Cooper. My mother thought it was great and started calling him D.B. My brother and I took a lot of ribbing and questions about it. We’d tell everybody, “Hey, we’ve never seen a dime of that money.”
And we hadn’t.
Fast forward to last Monday.
We just buried Dad today, that was hard. Then things got weird again.
At the wake Mom handed me an envelope and said, “Your father wanted you to have this.”
I tore open the envelope and read the note in my Dad’s handwriting:
Dear Earl,
Go to the base of the red maple in the back yard and dig on the west side and all will be revealed.
Love,
Dad
What the Hell?
I grabbed a shovel and went to the back and found the maple and started to dig. At about the three-foot mark I hit something. Brushing the dirt away I found a metal box. I lifted it out and there was some heft to it.
I opened the box and found stacks of greenbacks with another envelope on top.
I grasped the envelope and tore it open then read the note inside:
Dear Earl,
The Statute of limitations has run out, now you’ve seen it quit saying you haven’t. Enjoy!
D.B. Cooper (Dad)
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Writing Prompt *Read All Rules* Write a FICTIONAL story that involves a human family. The word length is minimum of 400 words with 600 words maximum. NO 'blood & guts" gory story, such as murder of people. Do NOT include time travel among characters, or 'Dear John' letters. This isn't a Thanksgiving story. Christmas may be mentioned, but it isn't a Christmas story. Do NOT have any music that automatically plays when story begins. You may use 1 picture that has no words, animation, or music, one color font with one color background, dedication line (optional) which doesn't count in word length, and author notes that may include 1 video (may have vocal sound/music). |
 Recognized |
#30 November 2021 |
*Word Count 521
* Snake Eater-- Special Forces Soldier AKA Green Berets
I know It's been awhile since I posted. Please be kind. Enjoy!
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. * Snake Eater-- Special Forces Soldier AKA Green Berets
I know It's been awhile since I posted. Please be kind. Enjoy!
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