I remember rolling dimes.
I got one for allowance once a month. I saved forever to get the first roll.
My grandmother would give me one if I'd let her kick me. That helped. I had two rolls in almost no time. She sure was a hoot. She could punt me all the way over the house.
Then I started looking for more ways to get dimes. I used to steal them out of the church collection box...the bigger boys would leave them when they stole all the quarters and dollars. Then I learned how to pick the locks on the gumball machines. My dimes really started to add up. I'd roll morning, noon and night. Eventually I had enough to buy a used car. With the new mobility I was able to plan a hit on the March of Dimes. I'd never had made my getaway without that old car. It could turn on a dime.
I had so many dimes I had to hire help to roll them. There were dimes everywhere. I became obsessed. I need more. I hooked up with a plate maker and we built a small smelting plant. I was making my own dimes left and right. I had to make my own paper rolls too because the bank couldn't keep up with demand. That was when they tipped the feds.
It was a sting operation. They left a jar of marked dimes on the counter of a liquor store they knew I shopped at. "Help Cella pay for callidge" is what it said. It had her picture on it all sad and poor. I should have known it was fake. Nobody is that cute. I took it when the clerk had his back turned. I dumped them into my counterfeit dime stash. It took a while for me to roll them all and when I did I rolled the marked dimes in with the counterfeit dimes.
They had photographed me swiping Cella's jar and when the marked dimes showed up in the same rolls as the bogus dimes they had me good to rights. Now I'm doing a dime in the big house.
All because my skinflint of a dad was too cheap to give me more than a friggin' dime a month!! GAH!
My future isn't worth a dime. Do me a favor. Give your kids a quarter.