Your mortgage payment is due today. Just like you’ve done every month for the past twelve years, you’re going to go down to the bank with a giant burlap sack containing $1121.56 in quarters (and six pennies) and thump it onto the desk in front of Jeff Blugard, the bank manager.
“God you're an asshole,” Jeff will say.
“Fuck you Jeff, now mark it paid,” you’ll say.
“Gotta count it first don’t I, you cock,” Jeff will say.
“I’ll wait for my receipt,” you’ll say.
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fucker.”
“Fuck you, Jeff.”
Jeff will shove the bag off his desk so that it drops into the little red wagon he bought especially for your mortgage payments.
“Fucker,” he’ll say once more before wheeling your mortgage payment into the back to start pouring it into the change counter. He’ll come back an hour and a half later with your receipt.
“Here you go fuckdick,” Jeff will say. “See you next month, ass.”
“You wanna get lunch?”
Jeff will shrug and the two of you will go to Quizno’s. You’re still angry that Jeff had an affair with your wife, but the mortgage payments are vengeance enough. And ever since she passed, you feel the need to keep Jeff around. You like having the company of someone who came close to knowing just how wonderful she was.
Happy You Make Your Mortgage Payments In Quarters Day!
