Mike Gendler

“Somehow I was going to have to get my money back, whatever it took. I didn’t care if I had to make my bed for a month, force lemonade down the throats of every hapless neighbor that happened to walk their dog past our front yard, shamelessly prostitute myself to my grandparents’ creepy friend Norman who would give you 50 cents for sitting on his lap and a dollar for every time you let him kiss you—and there was no turning your head so his slobbery old-man lips landed harmlessly on your hair, either; Norman had paid for skin-to-skin contact with young, firm flesh, and he was determined to get his money’s worth. (Why anyone thought that this behavior was remotely appropriate or that this man should be allowed around small children remains a mystery to me and is a story for another time, or perhaps another Kindle Single. Suffice it to say, all the relevant parties are now long dead, and as I have had no problems throughout adolescence and adulthood having”
― Rachel Shukert, Crazy Stupid Money