The Least We Could Do

I'm not cheap.
     I'm frugal.
     It's a condition I got from my father.
     When we--my wife and I--invited him to move in and spend the rest of his elderly life with us, I thought the most it would cost me would be a tank of gas, the gas it would take to move his stuff from his place to ours.
     My wife had other ideas.
     All of his old furniture was fine when it was in his house, but in our house it was obvious he needed an upgrade. Why, his mattress alone seemed to date back to prehistoric times. I think he originally got it by hitting a caveman over the head with a rock.
     My wife thought the least we could do for him was buy him a new bedroom set.
     "It'll make him feel more at home," she explained.
     I thought about that.
     "Maybe, on our way to the furniture store, we can stop someplace so I can buy myself a new wallet," I told her. "One with money in it."
     "You don't need a new wallet," she said.
     So we went straight to the furniture store, one that always seemed to be going out of business. Personally, I think they found a successful advertising slogan and decided to stick with it. My father looked around and found the perfect bed. It originally cost $2000, but was reduced to $500, mattress and box-spring included.
     Hmm... maybe they really were in trouble.
     Well, I thought it was a good deal, and my wife thought it was a good deal. My father, however, wasn't satisfied with the discount.
     "I'll give you a hundred," he told our salesman.
     "Mr. Duchene," the salesman said patiently, "we're going out of business, not out of our minds."
 
 

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