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Ashlesha's avatar

The Fool’s Inheritance

Grandfather left a choice: a four-bedroom home in New York, or a tiny, locked box that rattled when shaken. If I chose the box, relatives claimed the house. I took the box. Inside was a rusted key, coordinates to Norway, and a letter: “For the family fool.”

“It’s a treasure map!” I exclaimed. “No more hustling in life”

I flew out, expecting gold. Instead, I found a well-built cabin by a glacial lake. I stayed, too dismayed to leave. Weeks passed quietly, peacefully. The fool, at last, was truly free.

90 words.

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Stephanie Loomis's avatar

May 5 Fool 90

"Don't be a fool." Gordon never minced words, especially when people around him acted stupidly. This invective was directed at his adult son, whose most recent get-rich-quick scheme involved a peculiar combination of candles and essential oils designed to "bring income on the winds of fragrance."

"There's no such thing as get-rich-quick, son. There's work, hard work, and smart investing." He taught his children better, but this one refused sage advice, instead chasing after things that promised wealth without toil. "Less Jimmy Buffett, more Warren."

His son didn't get it.

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