Money Fan by Christopher M. Bohan
Turk turned the fan on high and the money flew everywhere. Hundreds stuck to the screen door like a swarm of insects looking for a way out. A twenty sliced Kurt across the cheek and gave him a paper cut right above his tattoo of the backside of a penny and right below his tattoo of a teardrop. Two hundred thousand scattered across the Midway Inn second floor executive suite complete with Jacuzzi tub and free HBO and ESPN in a matter of seconds. The complimentary ice bucket held about seven hundred dollars in refugee bills.
Turk attempted to shut off the fan, but succeeded only in setting the fan speed higher and another layer of bills was swept into the oscillating breeze. And, just as a bill was to settle the fan would pan back and set it adrift, aloft, toward the island, or counter rather, that held free soaps, a very small coffee maker and an ever-richening ice bucket.
Kurt really had wanted to jump on he bed and frolic in the money, but now, thanks to Turk, the moment was gone. Kurt sat staring at the nomadic money and said, "Thanks, Turk. Thanks, you idiot!"
Written: July 27, 2010