Stay in the writing game long enough, and you learn that a good story could come from anywhere, anytime. I was reminded why every writer does well to keep a pocket notebook on him during a recent visit to the barbershop. While waiting for a trim, one of the other customers–a tall, jolly fellow–told me this tale in Southern accent perfect for the mood.
Back in my hometown, my dad would always drive me and my friends down to the local park for the Saturday baseball game. The road ran by coal fields for a good stretch, and every week we’d see this old man hobbling down the dirt shoulder in suit and tie decades out of style.
Those being better times in a close-knit town, Dad would always stop for old Tom, as we called him, and give him a ride in the back of our station wagon to the ballgame. Tom always bought all us kids ice cream cones at the game, which made me feel a little guilty, considering Tom’s circumstances.
Tom lived in a decrepit old house next to a coal mine. When we’d drop him off after the game, you could see the sign poking out of the overgrown yard saying CONDEMNED. Yet Tom would always totter up the steps to that old place deemed unfit for human habitation and give us a wave goodbye before shuffling back inside.
As far as we could tell, the only thing Tom ever spent money on was those ice cream cones. He sure didn’t put any into fixing up his house!
And because he let the place go, one day the sheriff came to evict Tom from the old house by the mine. I was there with my dad when they finally dragged the poor old man out of there, and I got to go inside.
The ground floor was pretty much what we’d expected: a dusty, odoriferous shambles cluttered with old newspapers, rotting furniture, and unwashed dishes.
But then we went upstairs.
And we found one bedroom kept immaculately clean.
That wasn’t the only surprise we got that day. It came out that old Tom, the squatter who never had a dime to spend, except on ice cream cones for the kids on Saturday, was a multimillionaire.
The mine that ramshackle house stood next to had built our town’s prosperity, and Tom owned it all along.
For more unexpected twists, read my brand new mech adventure Combat Frame XSeed Double-S
Not the first story I’ve heard of a cheapskate millionaire. I’ve heard that the owner of IKEA also lives frugally—but instead of inhabiting a dilapidated house, he steals salt and pepper shakers from restaurants.
Stories like these form the basis for some of my favorite Unsolved Mysteries segments.
Tom must’ve been an interesting cat. Regardless of his proclivities, at least he seemed a kind soul towards kids