Skip to content
Little Johnny’s father comes home late on a Friday evening, exhausted from a grueling two-week business trip…
As he pulls into the driveway, he notices something gleaming under the porch light – a shiny, brand-new bike.
His eyebrows shoot up…
His young son is proudly perched on the seat, spinning the pedals like he’s training for the Tour de France.
“Hey, sport,” the father says, stepping out of the car, “that’s a nice bike you’ve got there… “
“Where’d you get the money for that? It must have cost, what, three hundred dollars?”
Johnny beams at his dad, “I earned it hiking!” he says, puffing out his chest like he just scaled Mount Everest.
His father frowns, confused, “Hiking? You earned three hundred dollars hiking?… “
“Come on, son. Tell me the truth’.”
“Nobody makes that kind of money just walking through the woods.”
“I did make it hiking, Dad!” Johnny insists.
The father crosses his arms, his tone growing more serious, “Alright, enough. Spill it. Where’d you really get the cash?”
Johnny shrugs casually, “I told you – hiking… “
“Every night while you were gone, Mr. Goldberg from the bank came over to see Mom.”
“He’d give me a twenty-dollar bill… “
“And tell me to take a hike.”
