Money

Danny walked down the stairs and looked at the table again. There sat, on top of the checkered tablecloth- old and tattered- the money he wanted. A wad of cash, held together by a rubber band.

"Is this how you wanted it, Danny?"

A red car pulled around the corner- a nice, new, glossy sports car- and kicked the turbo on. The 25 mph speed limit sign meant nothing here, as the car sped along the quiet neighborhood, barreling down a one way street in the middle of the night. At least, it looked like night.

"Danny, slow down! You're going to get us killed!"

"It's four in the morning, Rob. Shut the fuck up and learn to live some."

"I'd like to live some more years, so slow this car down."

Danny stopped the car. A red pentagon was the only thing that made him, and even then- it was more likely Rob's words.

"How about slowing to zero?"

"So you're not going to move anymore?"

"You got gas money?"

"No, I ain't no gas money."

"Then get the fuck out my car."

"Man, quit playin'."

"I ain't. Get out of my car."

"Fine, you want gas money? Take me home, I'll get you some damn gas money. Just drive like a normal person."

Danny obeyed Rob's words, as he took off going a much slower speed than before. He obeyed the limits. He obeyed everything until Rob was safe in his house, and handing him a raggedy five dollar bill.

"That's it? You just givin' me five dollars?"

"What else you want, a piece of gold?"

"Yeah, take them fillin's out- I'll sell 'em for somethin'."

"Danny, get out of my house. I ain't even wanna see you in the first place."

"You's the one who wanted a ride."

"Yeah thanks for it. Next time I'll make sure I don't miss the bus." Rob slammed his front door shut, leaving Danny to walk back to his red sports car- still shining in the moonlight.

He sat down in the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, and was on the road home. As he got closer to his apartment, he decided to begin speeding again. His eyes, tired from the long day, began to droop.

Danny looked at his car's clock and saw 5:43 AM. He blinked, his eyes lingering in the darkness longer than usual. He struggled to stay awake.

"Sir? Sir? Are you OK? Can you talk to me?"

"What's going on?"

"You've been in a car accident. What's your name?"

"Danny. My name is Danny."

The hospital was cold, as it always was. Danny was unconscious, his body scraped but barely bruised. His car on the other hand...

"Uhh..." he opened his eyes to see the tiled ceiling above him. His body ached, his head hurt. No one was in the room with him, as he looked around. He didn't expect anyone to be there.

"Hello?" he said. "Hello? Anyone out there?" he yelled.

A nurse walked into the room.

"I see you're awake, finally."

"Finally? How long was I out?"

"Three days. You're doing fine now, Mr. Laundler- just a few minor cuts."

"From what?"

"Car accident. I'll have the doctor come explain here when he can- in the meantime are you feeling any pain or discomfort?"

"My head hurts."

"I'll get you some aspirin."

Hours later- though Danny couldn't tell how long time had passed- the doctor and a police officer walked into his room.

"Danny Laundler is it?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Officer Fitzgerald, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."

"Of course."

"Well, what do you remember of the car accident?"

"Nothing. All I remember is lookin' at the clock, and it was almost six. Next thing I 'member I woke up here."

"And you're feeling OK?" the doctor interjected. At least, Danny assumed the old gray bearded man with a white coat and stethoscope around his neck was a doctor.

"Yeah, I'm a'ight. Is there somethin' I should know 'bout?"

"Danny, the person you hit is dead." The officer said straightforward.

"Oh shit. I killed someone?"

The officer let out a sigh. "Sort of. A man by the name of Todd Daniels was in the car you hit, but he had a suicide note. From what we determined, he purposefully stopped his car so that you would hit him, causing him to slit his throat with a knife he attached to his steering wheel."

"So I didn't cause the accident?"

"No, we believe it was Mr. Daniels that did. He had car insurance, but I'd advise looking for an attorney. The family is in debt, as is."

The court room fell silent as the judge began her final decision.

"After reviewing the evidence of this bizarre case- I have to say, that though I am sorry to hear of your loss Mrs. Daniels- it was your husband's fault that Mr. Laundler here hurt himself and then wound up losing his job because he was unable to perform his duties any longer. With that, I find for the plaintiff in the sum of $250,000." The gavel hit twice, sending sound waves out to the court room.

Mrs. Daniels sat there, crying, knowing her family was ruined.

"So you got this new house and everything from the settlement?"

"Yeah, they owe me nothing but a hundred bucks now."

"Danny, don't you feel bad about their family? They lost everything. She loses her husband, then they lose their house, their car. She has so much to pay for now, and the life insurance didn't cover suicide. Let them have that hundred dollars."

"That's my money, Rob. I know it's my money, OK?"

"Yeah? You know you fell asleep at the wheel too, don't you?"

"I didn't do nothin'. Try to tell me what the fuck I did, I was used. That's what I did. And I got the money from it that I rightfully deserved."

"You don't deserve shit. You need to give them some of that money back. You don't need this house, Danny- who the hell is gonna come visit you?"

"You're here."

"Yeah, and I'm gone. I was here to get back the money you owed my brother, but we don't want your money 'cause of how you get it. Rippin' off the poor people out here."

"I don't rip off nobody. You hear me Rob? Nobody!"

The doorbell rang. Danny got up off his new couch, and hit pause to stop his new HDTV from missing a moment of the basketball game. There stood Mrs. Daniels, disheveled and much different from when he saw her in the courtroom.

"Mr. Laundler. May I come in?"

"Uh, sure."

He was hesitant as he let her come inside his new house, with the new carpet. He watched her walk up the stairs- her shoes torn and black from the years worn.

"I came here to give you something, Mr. Laundler."

He felt paranoid as he walked into his own living room. He felt as though she was going to kill him, for revenge for killing her husband.

"Yeah uh," he saw his old tablecloth, dingy and dirty, covering up his new wooden table. "Just put it on the table. I'll be right back."

He walked upstairs quickly, half-running to be sure he could have her in his sights. He went to his bedroom, walked over to his dressing table, and opened up a drawer to pull out his gun. If he was going to die, he was going to take her with him.

Danny walked down the stairs and looked at the table again. There sat, on top of the checkered tablecloth- old and tattered- the money he wanted. A wad of cash, held together by a rubber band.

"Is this how you wanted it, Danny?"

He looked at her, dirty and dank, and then at the money.

"Yeah, that's good. You off the hook."

"Thank you Mr. Laundler, my family appreciates it."

He walked her out of his house.

"Can you believe what Danny Laundler did? All that money and he winds up dead."

"They say it was a suicide, but I don't know. That family he sued wanted him dead."

"What good would it have done them?"

"Beats me. Hey, you hear he left Rob everything?"

"Yeah- we should go hit up Rob. See how he's doin'. I need some gas, anyways."