"At least it's the reading of the will," my sister said as we walked into the study. I could see my mother standing by the books that her pompous brother used to own. "This is how we get 'em back."
I rolled my eyes but stayed silent as a man with floppy hair and glasses began to speak. "Hello everyone, thank you for coming..."
I drifted in and out of listening to what he said. Uncle Barney was most definitely not a generous man, but he did have a lot of assets and fortunes that had to be done away with now that he was gone. I remember when I was just ten, I had saved the last and best bit of a chocolate chip cookie that my mother had baked and was about to eat it when Uncle Barney swooped in and ate it out of my hand.
I had wanted to cry, but he had thought I was joking. "Good lad!" he had laughed, slapping me on the back before turning away.
I hated Uncle Barney. I don't want to be mean to the dead, but his funeral was just what it was to me: a funeral. I didn't cry, but I didn't jump up on his grave and laugh evilly either.
"And to my niece Candice..." I could feel my sister shifting next to me uneasily as the man with glasses finally got to her. I don't know what could be so exciting. I would expect Uncle Barney to leave us something that would burden us more than help us. If he leaves me his business or his dogs, I'm going to be one unhappy kid... again.
"And to my wonderful nephew Tim," the man read. My ears pricked up and I straightened in my seat. Now I'll listen. "For being such a good kid when he was younger, I leave my pub, The Hopping Frog, and hope that he takes care of it forever and always."
My heart clunked to the bottom of my chest. The pub? The one with the urine stains on the wall, the broken stereo systems, the angry workers at the bar, and the worst reputation in the city? That one?
My sister nudged me gleefully. "Good luck Tim!" she snickered. "Uncle Barney dead and you get his lousy pub? What a bar-gain!"
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