269,554¥

Ballsacks, Nutsacks, and Dogecoin, three of the many essential financial terms one must learn to keep up in the second half of the twenty-first century. It's just that Gil wonders if he wants to. Especially when he finds out they are types of currency. But strange or not, they are flowing into his Gimmee account. If it wasn't for the worry of his son risking his life on the open ocean Gil might even be excited.  

Transcript

Once I realized that he had already been paid twenty-five percent, I didn’t have much choice then to let him have the boat. The devil himself wouldn’t deter that son of mine once he got something in his head anyway. Might as well try to coax a rock to float. For that whole week I literally got on my knees in the night (not an easy task at my age), before bed, and prayed to God that it would be good weather on the weekend. And asking for good weather in spring in Newfoundland is like asking for a cold summer in Florida.  

Reverend Tom had not contacted me since that evening on the back patio. I didn’t want to talk to him anyway. I certainly didn’t regret yelling at him, considering he didn’t even listen to me. 

Park came to the house and spent a few nights with his father. Truth be told they didn’t have a whole lot in common, but any boy wants to spend time with his Dad. Especially when he’s away most of the time. They spent a day in the woods on my TerraCrawler. Park didn’t mind in the woods, but he didn’t have the same interest in it as Melvin. Or maybe he did enjoy it when they were together.

When they came out they were both covered from head to toe in mud. 

“So where did you get stuck to?” I said. 

“In the mud,” Melvin said. 

“Which one of you got her stuck?” 

Melvin thumbed over his shoulder towards Park. 

“He told me to go on through it, so I went on through it,” Park said. 

“I didn’t mean go on through driving so slow as your grandfather,” Melvin said. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. We caught two dozen trout at Pole Pond.” 

“Trout? Sure the season is not open yet.” 

“Is that true Dad?” Park said, with glaring eyes. 

“Don’t be so foolish —the two of you. Only a few ol’ trout. What odds? The season is only open one month a year now anyway.” 

I shook my head. There was no point in arguing with him. Anyway, we had a fine meal of trout that evening. And as the saying goes, everything tastes better when it’s poached. I still didn’t know how to cook much better than when I started, so Melvin fried them in that fake pork fat in the cast iron pan.

While we were eating Park asked me, “So did you look at the Gimmee page lately?”

“No. Why?”

“Go take a look,” he said, smiling. 

I did and to my shock, saw that there was $42,734 Canadian dollars in there.

“Jezus…” Melvin said. 

“At this rate you won't even need to sell this place!” Park said.

“Can anyone get one of these pages?” Melvin said. 

“Yes,” Park said. “Anyone. You must have a good reason though for people to give you money. Most people don’t make this much. Nowhere near this much actually. Wow, almost fifty-thousand dollars! It went up a few thousand just today.”

“So you’re grandfather wanting to live forever is a good enough reason? Sure what do the people donating money get out of that?” 

“Helping people feels good I guess,” Park said, with a sarcastic shrug. He has big shoulders for his age. He’s going to be even bigger than his father. “I guess it was my clever marketing skills. That and the fact that we let all our v-cast followers know. That’s another surprise I have for you, Pop. Even though no one showed up live, our episode got fifty thousand views after we recorded it.” 

“V-casts?” Melvin said. “You two up to that foolishness now?” 

“You was getting wild bears drunk when you was his age,” I said. “At least he’s trying to do something worthwhile.”  

Park laughed. “Really? Black bears?” 

“No, polar bears,” Melvin said, sarcastically.  

“I still can’t believe you was behind it,” I said, shaking my head. “It was in the paper and everything.” 

“Paper?” Park asked. 

“Local newspaper,” I said. “Front page.” 

“The news used to come in —” 

“I know what a newspapers were, Dad,” Park said. 

I made myself busy with the dishes, but I was kind of stunned at the number on the screen. Here I was sick to my stomach with worry about what Melvin was about to do, and ready to dance around the kitchen with what I was just told had been given to me by complete strangers. Praise Jesus. 

“There should be more Gimmees for magas trying to make a life here in Canada instead of helping old farts live forever,” Melvin said, laughing. “That is a lot of money though. Are you really going to use it for the shot?” 

“You knows I am,” I said. “And I dare say you’re worried about magas. I thought you hated them?” 

“Will you guys stop calling them magas?” Park said. “They’re Americans.” 

“We know where they’re from,” Melvin said. “It’s just a word. Same thing.”  

“No, it isn’t actually.” 

“I still can’t believe that much money is there already,” I said. “What if I didn’t get the shot?” 

“I’m not sure how that works, to be honest,” Park said. “I set the goal at one hundred thousand.”

“There’s no way he’s going to get that much,” Melvin said. 

“Is that comments underneath?” I said, staring at the page. It said $43,798.10 in big blue numbers, and they slowly kept going up. Another minute and it changed to $43,804. I was hypnotized by it. 

“Read some of them,” I said. 

“You still didn’t get the eye surgery?” Melvin asked.

“Can’t find the time.”

“You’re retired! Sure you’ll be able to see better than Park if you gets that.” 

“I won't have to worry about my eyes when I gets the shot,” I said. 

Park read a comment. “Janice Wilburs says, ‘Hey Gilbert! Hope you reach your goal. Let's stick it to the bourgeois and get some of the middle-class folks in the immortal category with them.”

“Jerome Chappelle says, ‘If you can pull this off, maybe the rest of us can. Here’s twenty bucks. Shout out to Big Ballz!’” 

“Who’s Big Ballz?” I said.

 “’Franklin Forenze says, ‘I saw your v-cast and thought it was the dumbest thing I ever saw in my life. Your grandson is an idiot and apparently he turns after you. Well, he’s not as ugly as you, but he’s certainly as dumb. You guys have no idea whatsoever how to do a proper v-cast. It was amateur garbage from beginning to end. I hope every future episode gets exactly seven viewers. Eat shit.’” 

“Judas,” I said. “So anyone can comment? I thought it was just the donors?” 

“He did donate,” Park said. 

“He did? How much?” 

“Twenty thousand.”

“…Oh…well, I guess that’s…good?”

“Oh, Ballsacks,” Park said. 

“Boy, these people got some weird user names.” 

“User name?” Park said.

“Yeah, the made up name for the account.” 

“That’s against the law. Did you used to be able to do that in your day? Bang. No, Ballsacks is the crypto he used.” 

“Ballzacks?” 

“Yeah, he donated 20,000 Ballsacks,” Melvin said. 

“So they got money called Ballsacks now?” I said. “That’s a joke right?”  

“Not money, cryptocurrency. No joke. There’s hundreds of different cryptos.” 

“Like Bitcoin and Smiley Bucks?” I said. 

“Well twenty thousand ballsacks are worth almost five thousand Farthole Fisters,” Park said to Melvin. “I think.” 

“All I got on my palm is Dragons right now,” Melvin said. “I had a few Dogecoin, but I traded them in for Smurfcoins.”

“Smurfs like the cartoon?” I said. 

“Smurfs was a cartoon?” Park said. “When?” 

“Listen,” I said, holding my forehead. “Just tell me this. How much money is twenty thousand nutsacks worth?”

“Worthless lately.” 

“But didn’t you just say they were worth something?”   

“You mean ballsacks or nutsacks?” 

“Yes! Ballsacks. Whatever.”

“Around…” he thought about it for a minute, “three yuan.” 

Did I really want to be young again? In this world?  

“Jesus,” Melvin said. “Read this one. ‘You and all of your…highlk?”

“Ilk,” Park said. 

“Ilk, are an abomination to humanity and all that is holy. Do you think trying to live forever will spare you from the rapture? When God comes to earth he won't care if you are seven, seventy, or seven-hundred and seventy-seven, you will be judged. 1 Thessalonians, 4;16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in God will rise first.’” 

“Well, it’s good to see some religious people on here,” I said. “How much did he donate?”

“I don’t think he meant that comment in a good way, Dad.” 

“I think you might be right, Melvin,” Park said. “He only donated thirty cents.”

“Maybe that’s all he had,” I said. 

“I’m pretty sure that was meant as an insult,” Park said. “Do you really believe in all that rapture stuff? End of the world, Jesus coming back and all that?” 

“Of course,” I said. “It’s already starting to come true.” Park and his father just slowly shook their heads in exactly the same way at exactly the same time.  

“Didn’t Judas get thirty cents or something for ratting out Jesus?” Melvin said.

I was surprised he remembered that. “Not thirty cents, but thirty silver pieces. Close enough.”

“How do you know?” Melvin said. “Thirty cents was a lot of money back then.” 

“Wow, look at you,” Park said to his father. “A real theologian, this one.” 

“I don’t know what that word means, but I know that’s one of about three things I remembers from Sunday school.” 

“Sunday school didn’t hurt you,” I said. 

“It felt like it did at the time,” Melvin said. “The only good thing about it was that we didn’t have to sit through the last half hour of church. I suppose coloring pictures of a crucifix is better than some minister putting me to sleep in them hard wooden seats. There’s a reason those seats are uncomfortable.”

“I love how those religious folks make some insane claim,” Park said, “and then supposedly back it up with a quote from a book of myths written by people in the bronze age, as if that is some kind of objective proof. Cracks me up every time.” 

“Speaking of religion,” I said, “I guess I’m going to be taking you to the Catholic church from now on. I’m done with the LBEPQMRANSAU.”

“He’s going to church with you?” Melvin said.

“We made a deal,” Park said. “He’ll keep doing the v-casts if I go to church.”

“Sure he’s drawing people to Giimmee from the v-cast,” Melvin said. 

“Don’t matter,” I said, “we shook hands. A deal is a deal.” 

“Apparently, trading filthy germs was an unbreakable pact in his day,” Park said.  

“He’d do anything to get you to church,” Melvin said. 

“What have I got to do to get you to go to church?” I said to Melvin.

“Cash money,” he said.  

“They still have a Catholic Church around here?” Park said. 

“They rents the Lion’s Club hall,” I said. 

“Why didn’t they join the LBEPQ..S..N…the church?” 

“They’re a stubborn lot, them Catholics. I guess they’re waiting for a comeback. Never knows. Might get one if everything keeps going downhill like it is. At least they got female priests now. They might even have a female pope one of these days.” 

I realized then that Park had not even questioned why I said I wasn’t going to the LBEPQMRANSAU anymore. I looked at Melvin. “Did you tell him?” 

“Yes, I told him. He’s not a little boy anymore. And he can keep a secret.” 

“I think it’s a noble thing to do,” Park said. “We should be helping...”

Melvin and I pointed at him. It was easy to forget about Big G sometimes.   

I didn’t say what was on my mind. Park was a smart young fella. He would figure out his father soon enough. 

“You can’t blame me for not wanting my son to take a chance like this. Even if it is for a…good cause. I told Reverend Tom not to ask him, but he did it anyway.” I looked at my son. “Because you’re not only taking a chance on going to the blue whale, you’re taking a chance on your life if the weather turns. I don’t know where you’re meeting that—"

Melvin put his finger to his lips in a violent shush motion. Even Park glared at me. So I grabbed a piece of paper and pen and wrote it down, I dont know were your meeting that boat, but it wont be anywhere close to shore If the wind comes up youll be in truble!!!

Melvin grabbed the paper and wrote, We got it all worked out. Dont worry bout it!!!!!

Park grabbed the paper then and wrote, STOP SHOUTING! In all caps. 

We laughed out loud at that. 

 I wrote, give me some idea of what your plan is? How many people is you picking up? What time? How is you going about this? 

Melvin wrote back, The less you know the better. You could be implocadit.

Park smiled and wrote, Are you trying to write imploding? I guess that’s possible if he gets worked up enough

Melvin looked at his son and shook his head. “Implicated, smartass.”

Park wrote, Is that the French spelling?

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Melvin said, and balled the paper up and threw it in the garbage, while Park laughed. 

“He gets it from you you know,” I said to Melvin, but truth be told being a smartass was the only trait he really inherited from his father, thank God.

“So it’s one family?” I said. 

Melvin nodded. 

“How far off?” Park said. 

Melvin put his hand up for the number ten and said, “Miles.”

“What!” I said. “Sure if anything goes wrong you’ll be finished.” 

“Fifteen knots sins,” Melvin said. New cockney for winds. “No issue.” 

“I prays to God every night that you’ll be safe,” I said. “I won't sleep a wink when you goes out. What time do you have to—" 

“Don’t matter about that,” Melvin said. 

“Is it after dark?” 

“What do you think?”

Grinning, Park wrote, Worst. Smuggler. Ever.