Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Much appreciation goes to Shallan for her beta work... thank you!
Category: Humor
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Brief mention of event in 'Three Point Shot'
Based on a true! urban legend
Carole
"Dinner smells good. Is it almost ready?"
In the process of setting the table, Blair turned to watch as Jim slowly made his way down the stairs and across the room. "A few more minutes," he answered. "Still sore?"
Jim nodded, gingerly lowering himself down on the couch cushions with a sigh of relief. "Just a little."
"Just a little?" Blair questioned skeptically.
"Okay. More than just a little," Jim admitted.
"I'm not surprised. It's not every day you find yourself hanging by your fingertips a couple hundred feet off the floor." Blair shivered dramatically. "Better you than me, man."
"At least the Jags won."
Blair couldn't hold back his surprised bark of laughter at Jim's deadpan comment. "Yeah. Hey, you want some more Tylenol?"
Jim shook his head. "I just took some, thanks." He watched Blair, a curious look on his face, for a few moments before calling, "Hey, Chief?"
"Hmmm?"
"Did you really finance your education by gambling?"
Blair smiled, remembering his joking comment to that effect. "Well, not really," he admitted. "Although, I did make a few dollars here and there that way. Actually, over the past fifteen or so years, I think I've worked at just about every odd job you can imagine."
"I can imagine a lot of things," Jim retorted, his eyebrows raised.
"Nothing illegal, man," Blair assured him. Finished with his task, he dropped down beside Jim on the couch.
"I always figured you had a scholarship."
Blair nodded. "I did, but scholarships don't always cover everything. I know mine didn't." He took a deep breath. "The summer before my freshman year was probably the hardest. Naomi couldn't help out very much, and the jobs that were available for sixteen year olds didn't pay much, so by the time classes started, I was still short on money."
"What did you do," Jim asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Well, after being a bit bummed out about the whole thing for a couple weeks, I went to talk to my advisor."
"He helped you out?"
Blair laughed. "Not the way he'd planned."
"What do you mean?"
"He told me about some of the other students and what they did to raise extra money," Blair explained. "There was this one guy who had an ungraduation party to finance his first year."
"A what?" Jim interrupted.
"An ungrad party. You've heard of those imaginary fund-raiser parties? The kind where no one actually shows up, but they send lots of donations? Well, that's what he did. Had an ungrad party right after high school. He raised over five thousand bucks."
Jim shook his head in disbelief. "No way."
"Yep. And there was this girl who got a job as a real-life manniquin. For two hours a day, she modeled clothes in a store window." Blair chuckled. "Not a job for me. Can you picture me standing still for that long?"
Jim shook his head emphatically. "Nope. You can barely stand still for two minutes, never mind two hours."
"You know, now that I think about it, it could have been a prime opportunity for some major meditation time," Blair said thoughtfully.
"Somehow, I don't think the store owners would have appreciated the music and candles."
"Probably not."
"So, what did you do? Knowing you, it was pretty creative."
Blair grinned. "I got to thinking about how everybody always has lots of spare change lying around." He reached into his own pocket, holding out a handful of coins to illustrate his point.
"Don't tell me you made some of those donation cans and left them on the counter in convenience stores?"
"You mean, 'donate here to help a poor student'?'" When Jim nodded, Blair shook his head. "No, man. Something even better."
When Blair showed no signs of continuing, Jim pulled the younger man into a loose headlock. "Spill it, Sandburg."
"Okay, okay," Blair chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.
"What did you do?" Jim asked, releasing his partner after a quick tousle of his hair.
"There was this columnist," Blair began. "He -- oh, wait, let me go get something." Jumping to his feet, he disappeared into his room.
"Sandburg?" The sound of rustling paper came to Jim's ears. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for this." Blair came back out of his room, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. Reclaiming his seat, he crossed his legs under him and unfolded the paper.
"What is that?"
"An old newspaper article. Listen to this. No one likes being used, but in this case I'm willing," Blair read. "It sounds like fun. Blair Sandburg, 16, is a freshman at Rainier University in Cascade, Washington. He is looking for a way to finance his college education, and he decided that my column is the answer."
"You wrote to a columnist and asked for money?"
"Not exactly. Let's see, where did I leave off?" Blair studied the clipping for a moment before continuing. "Oh, here. Ummm... 'How many people read your column?' he asked me. I told him I didn't know. 'Millions, right?' he said. 'All over the country, right?' I said I supposed that was true. 'Well, here's my idea,' he said, and proceeded to explain. I'll break it down simply: Blair Sandburg wants every person who is reading this column right this minute to send him a penny."
"What?" Jim laughed. "You asked for pennies?"
"Yep," Blair confirmed.
"Did you get any?"
"Let me finish this." Blair went back to the article. "'Just one penny,' Sandburg said. 'A penny doesn't mean anything to anyone. If everyone who is reading your column looks around the room right now, there will be a penny under the couch cushion, or on the corner of the desk, or on the floor. That's all I'm asking. A penny from each of your readers.'"
"There's no way that would work."
"Actually, it was pretty successful."
"How successful?" Jim questioned. "Just how much money did you get?"
"In less than a month, I had over 2 million pennies."
"But..." Jim sputtered, shaking his head. "That's--"
"A lot of money," Blair cut in, a wide smile on his face. "Not everybody sent a penny. I got nickels, dimes, quarters, and even more. I guess people thought it was cute that this little kid was asking for a penny."
By this point Jim was totally speechless.
"I got money from every state in the U.S., along with Mexico, Canada, and the Bahamas. When it was over, I had more than twenty thousand dollars."
"Twenty thousand dollars," Jim repeated slowly in astonishment. "That's incredible."
"I know."
"You got all that money just by asking for it."
"I didn't ask for a lot of money, just asked for money from a lot of people." Blair shrugged. "It worked."
"You know, Sandburg," Jim began in a teasing tone. "If you'd asked for quarters..." He let his voice trail off deliberately.
Blair shook his head. "Nah, that wouldn't have been right. And, if I had never taken all those jobs, I would have missed out on learning a lot of new stuff and meeting a lot of neat people."
"I don't know, Chief. You could have been rich."
"Money isn't everything. Besides, I'm already rich," Blair said simply, a warm smile gracing his face. "In every way that counts."
"And so am I," Jim said. Wrapping his arm around Blair's shoulders, he ignored the slight throb of pain, and pulled him close for a long moment.
Blair nodded, leaning comfortably against Jim's side, his smile growing even wider. "Yeah."
"Ready to eat, Rockefeller? I think dinner's about ready." Jim got to his feet, automatically extending a hand to his partner.
"Uh, uh," Blair said, waving off the detective's assistance. "Sore muscles, remember?"
"I'm okay," Jim said, rubbing his shoulder despite his words. "The Tylenol helped. Now I'm just--"
"A little sore," Blair finished for him, getting up from the couch. "Right?"
"Yeah," Jim chuckled, a grin on his face. Headed for the table, he stopped suddenly, swinging around to face Blair. "Hey, Sandburg?"
"Yeah?"
"I know money isn't everything, but... if I should ever need a loan..." Jim raised his eyebrows in expectation.
Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes twinkling. "Talk to a bank, man, talk to a bank."
~end~
Actual newspaper article written by Chicago Tribune columnist Bob Greene. Details can be found at http://www.snopes2.com/college/admin/cent.htm