An unidentified woman in underpants, having consumed one ladylike gin and gingerale, wanders into her living room, where her husband reclines on the sofa. She sprawls beside him.
“I wish I had a million dollars,” she says, apropos of nothing and everything, “If I just had a million dollars, everything would be great.”
Her husband pauses the television.
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“I said ‘great,’ not ‘perfect.’ I know money has limitations, but in this case it would solve all of my major problems.”
“And you’d need a million dollars.”
“Fine, 500,000.”
“There is no way that you are suddenly going to get your hands on $500,000.”
“300,000. That’s my final offer. That’s as low as I can go.”
“I’m not—”
“10,000. 10,000 dollars.”
A few minutes later, her husband reaches for the remote. She muses aloud:
“We should get a metal detector. I’ll bet there’s all kind of valuable stuff around here. It’s one of the oldest neighborhoods in St. Paul. We could find F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, like, fountain pen. He lived down the block, you know.”
“And you think F. Scott Fitzgerald’s fountain pen is just lying in the grass somewhere?”
She snorts.
“Well, no. We’d have to dig, obviously.”
“How would we know it was his?”
“It would say.”
“It would say. It would be labeled? It would say ‘F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Fountain Pen?”’
“No! God! Don’t be stupid. It would say ‘Scott Fitzgerald,’ or something. Engraved. Or maybe we’d take it to an antique dealer and they’d recognize it from an old photograph.”
“Uh Huh. Maybe we’ll find F. Scott Fitzgerald’s rare old 50-cent piece, too.”
“Oh, stop. Now you’re just being silly.”
She’s quiet again for a while. But not long enough:
“I mean think about it. Think how many pens we lose.”
“Simone,” the man mutters.
“Even before her. We must lose dozens of pens a year! Why should things have been any different back then? And HE was probably DRUNK, knowing him. We can figure it out with Math. If we calculate how many pens we lose a year on average and how many years F. Scott Fitzgerald lived in the neighborhood…the place must be CRAWLING with pens! People would pay for those,” the woman finishes, sagely, adjusting her underpants.
“And he lost all these pens outside, did he?”
“Maybe they fell through the floorboards. And then there is erosion, or a mouse carries them out.”
“A mouse carries them out.”
“Where are OUR pens? You explain it. I’m just saying: metal detector. It would be an investment.”
{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }
Great scenario! I love imagining my kids as adults. Simone is lucky to have you to write these things down. Maybe now, in all of your “down time”, you could act as a writing coach to all of us inspired parents who would also like to leave some sort of written legacy to our children. Oh, I forgot, you’re going on a BOOK TOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Come to Ann Arbor, PLEASE?)
If you get a metal detector I’ll have to divorce you. At least, that is what I tell my husband, when he shows interest in getting one.
What about Salt Lake City? I really can get you into Sam Wller’s, I really do have connections. Just don’t mention the metal detector.
You should come over here to Boston…I often feel like I stumble over history all the time around here–maybe some famous pens are just waiting for you! :-)
I think you should hold out for the million dollars. That’s my personal plan, anyway.
I have it on good authority that our Maine Coon steals ALL the pens and hides them in his lair under our couch. He likes pacifiers and money too. Who knows, you could find pens AND a cool mil under there.
You need this metal detector. REQUIRE it. You must. Immediately, if not sooner.
As a fellow Sarah Lawrence grad, I can say with confidence that the gin is more likely to figure in the acquisition of your millions (and, likely, the loss of your pens) than math. :)
So act. I don’t think that story was supposed to be Simone as an adult – I think Scott was saying that “Simone” is the cause of their lost pens.
In any case – hilarious writing as always :) .
Yes, F. Scott’s engraved flasks might be more likely. Oooo, those would be worth a bundle. START HUNTING IMMEDIATELY.
Hey! A metal detector is my secret dream too! Only in my version I find lost precious jewels. What happens with these jewels, I haven’t figured out yet. But I find them!
Oh yes, KS, you are so right – Scott is indeed invoking Simone as the cause of the lost pens. I was led to believe it was Simone by the underpants reference in the opening sentence, but of course Alexa might also sport just the tighty whities on occasion! (I wrote that comment at 12:13 am – it’s my only excuse – now at 12:19 am I am so much more clear-headed!) Thank you again, Alexa, for your wonderful writing, regardless of the subject. It was a pleasure to parse it.
This was a fantastic start to my Saturday morning blog browsing. BRAVO!
All I can say is wow, the thousands of pen’s my bossy takes off my desk and well as the dozens of pens I order at staples!hahaha
Never say never.
http://www.gizmodo.com.au/2010/07/guy-with-metal-detector-finds-us1-million-in-roman-coins/
I think you’re on to something here. If Zelda was in on of her bad spells, she could have very well tossed a few fountain pens off a hotel balcony or two. I mean, they were always in hotels. With pens.
I love metal detectors and telescopes. As a kid, my family vacationed at the beach every year and my father used to rent a metal detector. He found a beautiful watch with diamonds that my mother quickly snatched up. They had it cleaned and inspected, and it turned out to be quite a nice find!
LOVE this post