3 May 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2725: waterfall of silver coins

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“See, poor people are not the problem, and I know because I was raised by people who have tons of money but don't know what to do with it – they're horrible, and they're my grandparents, and they're still horrible.”

Capt. Ludlow walked into his vacation/evacuation home to hear the little cousin he was about to adopt, ten-year-old Glendella Ludlow, telling a story to eight-year-old Edwina Ludlow, one of the seven grandchildren he had already adopted – and then, in one of those incidents that always shocked him because of his size differential with all his grandchildren, he was dragged clear backwards onto the porch by adopted grandchildren eleven-year-old Eleanor and ten-year-old Andrew Ludlow.

“Look, Papa, Glendella and Edwina have been in there talking since they got up, and, it's bad, real, real bad,” Eleanor said.

“I mean we all know Edwina is going to be the hype woman for any drama, but if half of the stuff Glendella is saying is true, her grandparents need to be arrested, for real!” Andrew said, and handed over his notebook.

Capt. Ludlow took the notebook while his ears clued him back in on Glendella's story.

“So, they're in there, arguing about paying the landscaper because he was ten minutes late in a rainstorm but the sun was out and he got the work done, and meanwhile, Gramps left the fifth safe opened and there's like a waterfall of silver coins coming out of there – just money he doesn't need because he was doing fine before he lifted all that from somebody's backyard without permission because he was mad at somebody that did something in 1864 and he thought the real heirs didn't need to have it.”

“Oh my … that's a real crime,” Capt. Ludlow said.

“So then, I just said forget it and took two of those old coins and paid the landscaper and he never came back, and then the real family figured it out because he worked for them too and they came for their stuff with their guns! I just hid under the bed until it was all done and they had their stuff and left, and then Gramps was fussing about who ratted him out and he knew it Sylvester from the club because Sylvester told him not to do it but he ain't running anything, but see, Sylvester moved to Atlanta and Gramps said hitmen in Atlanta are too expensive – but see, poor people are not the problem here!”

“No, they are definitely not!” Edwina said. “I've been with some poor people, and they can be bad, but, they ain't about to just leave money around to be in a stick up at their own house – I mean, they ain't got it, but, they wouldn't if they had it!”

“Yo! Breakfast is pulling up!” nine-year-old George said as he saw the Dubois on the Road truck coming down the street.

“Go wash up,” Capt. Ludlow ordered, and every child who knew his voice did so, breaking up all the conversations.

Mrs. Thalia Ludlow came out with a notebook, and the two Ludlow adults just compared notes and shook their heads.

“I filed the adoption paperwork, and not a moment too soon – that child's environment was like a bad B movie with C actors on a Z plot,” Capt. Ludlow said.

“That's pretty much the same thing you said about … well, you remember, “ she said.

Capt. Ludlow had told his children Robert Jr. and Anne, “You two are responsible for living like a bad B movie with C actors on a Z plot, and if that's all you want, that's all you'll get, but you can't keep doing this to your children.”

“Yes, I know,” he said to his wife, “which is why we are not about to have Glendella going through that, ever again.”

“Yep – like she says, because no.”