A Penny's Worth

  He was tempted to haul the pennies into a bank and cash them in, but that might ruin the magic. If he did cash in some of them, what would happen? Maybe nothing, he thought, but then again... The worst he could imagine was that the spell would be broken, and his wishing days done.

  Then there was the counterfeit angle, though he didn't think he would have to worry about that. Nobody in their right mind would counterfeit pennies. It would cost more than the pennies were worth. No, that wasn't a concern, but turning in that many pennies, all identical, would certainly draw a lot of unwanted attention. Somebody would probably want to know where so many new looking old pennies had come from.

  So if he couldn't turn the pennies in, even if he wanted to, what options were left? They were made of copper. Maybe he should melt them down, and sell the ingots to a trash man or something. Or maybe he should bury them. That was another possibility, but one he couldn't take seriously. It would take too much work, and when they multiplied, they would pour up out of the ground, spewing up like a geyser.

  For now, storing them in the containers seemed the best alternative. Pete sighed. He never knew that getting everything he wished for was going to be so draining. Looking around his living room, Pete also realized his house just wasn't a good place to keep the containers. There just wasn't going to be enough room. Next time, he would have to have 60 containers, then 120, then 240, and so on. He would need a bigger place to store the magical pennies soon, or he would have to stop wishing, and that wasn't going to happen. This was the first really great thing that had happened in his life.

  Maybe he could rent a warehouse? That could work. Something that could hold a few thousand times what he had in his house right now. That would keep him wishing up a storm. Before long, he imagined, he could be the richest man in the world. And why not? All he had to do was wish for it, but not right now. First, he needed to make sure he kept the pennies safe and secret.

   

  ###

   

  Pete drove around the neighborhood for hours before locating the perfect place. It was a warehouse only a few miles from his house with a wide, open space with few windows and plenty of room to hold the pennies. All he needed to do was make it his.

  A big sign on the entrace stated it was for rent, and the fence was a nice touch, complete with barbed wire at its top. That would help keep the curious away from the windows and such. Pete started entering the phone number into his cell, then stopped. Why do this the hard way? Why not just wish that the building was already rented to him. Heck, why not wish he owned it, and that the pennies were already there? Yes, it was time he started using his noggin to do the heavy lifting.

  There was a clatter from inside of the warehouse, and Pete blinked. The sign was gone, and on his key ring was a nice new one. When he tried it on the lock at the entrance, it opened, and he smiled. When he opened the door, his smile grew. In the middle of the warehouse floor, the storage containers from his house were there, and the pennies were multiplying before his eyes, pushing over the tops of the containers, and spilling out onto the warehouse floor. Maybe he was finally getting the hang of this wishing business.

  There was still work to be done, though. The pennies needed to be secured, and he would have to at least get them into storage containers again so no busybody, window peepers, like himself, could see them. He could wish for that, too, but he wanted to save his wishes for something more important. Besides, he could get the storage containers easily enough and haul them in his SUV, but it was going to take some time.

  It wasn't something he could get help doing, either, but it was work he was now more than willing to do to save his wishes. Besides, he could just imagine the kind of questions that an employee would have. At the very least, people would think he was crazy to have all of these pennies around, not to mention that they were all dated the same. It would definitely be suspicious. The last thing Pete needed was to draw unneeded attention. It took him the rest of the day, and the next, and the next after that, before he was done.

   

  ###

   

  Exhausted, but with his mind restful and dreaming of the future, he went back home and collapsed on his couch. It was ironic that he'd worked harder since getting the lucky penny than ever before in his life. He meant to rest only a few minutes, but fell asleep, anyway. It was a peaceful sleep, and one filled with happy thoughts of wishes, hopes and dreams.

  A few days ago, he would have been happy with what the pennies had already brought, but that wasn't enough, now. He wanted more, and if he wouldn't admit it to himself, his subconscious dreaming self knew what to do about it. Wouldn't it be nice to have a bigger house, say a mansion? And why not have his own company, one where he didn't have to worry about whether he kept his job or not? One where the only person he had to answer to was himself? Why not?

  Pete started dreaming of other things, too. Things his subconscious mind considered perfectly appropriate, but things that he would never have thought of seriously. Not only did he want Janet back, but wouldn't it be nice if Janet looked more like a supermodel? He loved his wife, and he wouldn't wish for anything bad to happen to her, but he still wouldn't mind being married to a supermodel. All of this and more, he dreamed of. He could have it all, and his subconscious was making sure he got just what he wished for.

   

  ###

   

  "Pete, dear." The pleasant and familiar voice came from somewhere a long way off, and brought him out of his restful sleep. Janet was home. He hadn't expected that.

  "What?" Pete asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Did you have..." He trailed off, seeing his wife as if for the first time. It was Janet, he could tell, but she was different in a subtle way. She had always been pretty, especially to him, but now she was knockdown gorgeous. A bit thinner in the hips and curvier all around. He had to smile.

  "Why did you sleep out here? I missed you," she said sweetly, looking demure and wonderful.

  "Sorry," Pete replied, smiling and grinning, still not sure what had happened, but knowing he liked it. "How? I mean what did you...," he began, but cut himself off. He had some recollection of it, but little else. Then a tingle ran through his body. He must have dreamed a wish and it had come true. What else had he dreamed?

  "You're babbling again, dear. You have to get ready. You have that board meeting today, and you're going to be late. I guess they could start without you, but it wouldn't look good, now would it?"

  That made at least two wishes. How many more had he made? He shrugged. What was done, was done, and there was little he could do about it. "Okay, I'll take a shower and get ready," he said, hesitantly kissing her.

  "Good. I'll make breakfast," she said, smiling, and heading off.

  After a ten-minute search, Pete located the shower, and then his closet. From the impressive choices of very expensive suits, he picked one he liked, and got dressed. If he was going to a board meeting, he ought to at least look the part, even if he wouldn't know what was going on.

  Whistling, Pete made his way down the broad stairs to the lower floor, where he could smell the breakfast Janet had promised him, its wonderful aroma becoming stronger with each step as he descended.

  "It looks great and smells even better," Pete said, sitting down at the large dining room table.

  "You want the news on?"

  "Sure," he said, but was far more interested in the food.

  Janet switched on the television. The news was the usual babble, and Pete didn't pay much attention, letting it drone on as background. Then he heard the word pennies and his head shot up.

  "This is one of the most bizarre occurrences I've ever seen, Bret," the female reporter was saying, as the picture of a mound of pennies stood in view of the camera. It was huge, and dwarfed the buildings around it. Pete instantly knew where it was, choking on the eggs he had just taken a bite of.

  "It certainly looks odd," Bret's answer came back, while the female reporter look
ed on. "Do we know anything about it?"

  "No, not really. It started sometime last night. That's about all we know. For some reason, whether it was an experiment gone wrong, or some supernatural effect, these pennies suddenly appeared, flowing out of a storage building now destroyed and buried under this massive pile."

  "But where are they coming from?" Bret asked.

  "No one knows, but for now at least, the pile has quit growing. But for several hours last night, onlookers said that the pile just kept getting bigger and bigger. The police showed up soon enough to stop most of the looting, but we know that some of the pennies have been taken. We managed to get a few ourselves," she said smiling, holding a handful out to the camera.

  "Is there anything unusual about them?" Bret asked, still in his calm, monotone announcer's voice.

  "Yes. It appears, that they are all very new looking, and all have the exact same date," she said.

  "The exact date? Sounds like counterfeit, to me. What do the police think?"

  "At first, they thought the same, but they have discounted that theory. Even though there are probably millions of pennies here, the cost of counterfeiting a penny would be counterproductive. The expense involved would cost more than the pennies would be worth."

  "Do they have any other theories or leads?" Bret asked.

  "From what we've been told, they are trying to find out who owns the building, and contact them to see what information they can give. They said that this particular building was for rent recently, and the authorities hope that whoever rented it, or owns it, can give them the answers they need," the reporter replied.

  "Thank you, Julie, and keep us in touch as this amazing story progresses. A mountain of pennies. Where did they come from, and who is responsible? Stay tuned, and we'll keep you informed, because WKTR is the station that cares."

  The news continued, but Pete wasn't interested. He had too much to worry about.

  The doorbell chimed out a tune Pete could swear was Penny's From Heaven. "I'll get it, dear," Pete heard Janet say, as she stood up and made her way to the front door. Pete twisted his head so he could see when she opened it. As she did, it revealed two police officers.

  Pete sat back heavily into his chair. This didn't look good at all. He could hear Janet talking to the policemen, and she sounded as bewildered as they did. The only thing to do was to talk to them himself. He stood, and headed to the door. He had a lot of explaining to do. A mountain of pennies couldn't be ignored.

  "Oh, dear, these officers are asking for you," Janet said, looking concerned as he approached.

  "Are you Mr. Samson?" one of the officers began. Pete thought it was a stupid question. Janet had clearly identified him, but they were probably just being thorough before they arrested him.

  "Yes, what can I help you with?" Pete replied. The inevitable was upon him, and there was little use in trying to dodge his responsibility.

  "Do you own the storage building on 15th street?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "There's been a problem, and we would like you to come with us."

  "Pete, what's wrong?" Janet asked, standing beside him with a worried look.

  "Nothing dear," Pete said, then turned back to the officer. "Am I under arrest?"

  "Oh, no," the officer said. "It's just that there is something, well...," the officer said, hesitating, "strange happening, and we need to ask you a few questions."

  Pete had a gut feeling that they wanted to arrest him, but he imagined they were having a hard time figuring out for what. At the very least, they could probably arrest him for causing a public nuisance or something like that. Thinking on it, he decided that they couldn't really prove anything, could they? How could anybody explain a mountain of shiny pennies? Pete knew he needed to go with them. It wouldn't look good to argue, and it wouldn't do any good anyway.

  "Okay, just let me get my coat," he said.

  "I'll get it," Janet said, opening the hall closet.

  "I'm sure this won't take long, but could you call the office and tell them we'll have to reschedule the board meeting?" Pete said, kissing her lightly.

  "Yes, dear."

  The officers led him to their patrol car, and sat him in the back seat. Well, at least they didn't handcuff me, Pete thought.

   

  ###

   

  The cruiser took him to the storage building. Pete caught bits and pieces of traffic from the cruiser's radio, and a lot of it was about the pennies. On the way, he heard things that made him wince, like the terms FBI and Treasury Department. He closed his eyes, trying to regain a sense of order. How had this happened? Everything was going so well. Now, it looked like they would be locking him up. He shook his head, bewildered at how quickly things had gotten out of control.

  About two blocks from the storage building, Pete could see bright sunshine reflecting and glittering off of the mountain of copper. At first all that was visible was the peak, then more of it came into view as they rounded the corner. It was an impossibly huge pile, as if someone had emptied out a piggy bank onto a floor. The pile was probably three to four times wider at its base than it was high, and it was so large, that it was now encroaching on the surrounding buildings, coming up to four or five feet on some of them.

  As they came closer, Pete noticed a number of news vehicles. They weren't allowed very close, as the police had barricaded and limited access for at least a block away. It looked like the pennies had become big news.

  The police let the cruiser through the blockade, and it drove up to a group of uniformed and plain-clothed people standing in a group near the edge of the pile. Most of them had dark sunglasses on, shielding them from the reflecting sunlight bouncing off the shiny, reflective copper surface of the pennies. The cruiser stopped, and one of the officers opened the door.

  "Okay, Mr. Samson, I'll take you over to FBI Agent Fredricks. He's the guy in the gray suit over there.".

  Pete nodded, and followed the officer over.

  "This is Mr. Samson," the officer said as they approached. "He's the guy that owns the building."

  "Thank you, officer," Agent Fredricks said. "Mr. Samson, can you tell us anything about this?" he asked, pointing expressively at the mountain of pennies.

  "Just exactly what do you want to know?" Pete asked.

  "Well, for starters, are you responsible?"

  Pete felt jittery. If he said yes, then he would probably be arrested for counterfeiting. Shaking his head, and closing his eyes, he wished that he wasn't in trouble.

  Pete heard the tinkling, then wished again that he hadn't wished for anything. No, you idiot, he thought. He had just made two wishes, one after the other. The pennies were growing again, starting with the usual tinkle, tinkle, just as it had in his house. "Get everybody back," he yelled to Agent Fredricks, turning to run from the now growing pile.

  Agent Fredricks grabbed him by his coat collar, and pulled him back. "What?"

  "Get away," Pete yelled, shrugging off the grip in panic, running away from the pile.

  The shrieking and tinkling of the pennies was maddeningly loud now, and Pete cupped his hands over his ears. Even over the tremendous roar of the growing pennies, he could hear the screams and shouts of several people as they tried to get away from the ever-growing pile. Pete didn't stop until he was well past the barricade. Only then, did he feel safer.

  Two wishes worth would make that mountain grow a lot. If every wish he made doubled the number of pennies, then the last two would make the pile four times its current size. He turned around, his curiosity and guilt making him. He saw the police frantically trying to get out of the path of the growing pile, starting up their vehicles and accelerating away, or running away on foot as he had.

  All but two of the vehicles made it without trouble. One stalled, and the driver managed to escape before the pennies engulfed it, crushing it under the weight. The other was unfortunate enough to have its wheels caught under a bunch of the pennies as they grew, lifting th
e vehicle off the ground and keeping the wheels from getting any traction. Pennies flew from the wheels in a steady stream back toward the pile as they spun. The pennies quickly engulfed the cruiser with the driver inside. Pete hoped he was all right.

  The pennies grew and grew, spouting out of the pile everywhere, as if it were a living thing, its surface undulating and flowing. As the mountain grew, the pennies engulfed the surrounding buildings, their great weight collapsing the walls.

  A loud crash erupted from the building off to Pete's right, and he saw the pile suddenly falter there, as the pennies poured down through the collapsed floor of the building and into its basement. Creaking, crashing, and groaning erupted from all of the buildings crushed under the pennies as they grew and grew. Pete thought the growth should have stopped by now, but it hadn't. Was he wrong? Would it keep growing this time? Maybe forever?

  Presently the tinkling dimmed, and then quit all together. Pete sighed in relief. Once the noise stopped, the yelling and screaming stopped, too, and a dead silence fell over the area. Pete saw that a few of the officers were trying to uncover the buried patrol car to get the trapped officer out, and as he climbed out, Pete was again grateful. At least it looked like no one had gotten hurt other than maybe some scrapes and bruises.

  "Samson," Agent Fredricks yelled from somewhere. Pete turned around and saw the agent heading toward him. Fredricks didn't look happy.

  Pete waited for Fredricks. The agent had to take a somewhat round about way, avoiding the edge of the mound. On the way, he grabbed a handful of the shiny pennies, and brought them over with him. "Do you know anything about what's going on here?" Fredricks asked, his voice breaking and rough.

  Should he tell Fredricks the truth, Pete wondered, and then he laughed. He couldn't help it, but the joke seemed lost on Fredricks.

  Fredricks grabbed Pete by his arm and squeezed. "What's so funny? You think this is funny?"