The Value of a Laugh
A short story
Monday mornings, my allowance sat waiting for me, perched on the wood countertop next to that of my two brothers’.
My dad, the accountant, set out the coins in a perfect row. Alan, the eldest, got 30 cents. Martin, the youngest, got 20. I got 25.
I saved my quarters in a tin piggy bank for five weeks. With $1.25 cents, I could buy a MAD paperback book.
At …
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