PPPPP, Mary and MMMMM

PPPPP, MMMMM and Mary

A Short Story

By Izzy Sommers

PPPPP died in front of 25 or more poker players at the Illini Recreation Centre, Spa and Casino, in Rockford, Illinois. He was known to have some form of heart disease because he was always short of breath and holding his chest, as if in pain. He played Texas Holdem Poker at least 3 times weekly, usually in the morning between 10 and 11. All the Illini Recreation Centre employees knew him. Amongst them he was PPPPP, Pretty Pokey Poker Player of Peoria. He did, in fact, live just outside of Peoria in a house trailer, which no longer had any wheels. And, he was pokey. Some thought that his pokiness was an act to lull the other players into sleepiness. Others thought he was on medications that slowed him down. Yet others thought it was some form of heart failure. What they all learned is that he tended to win a few bucks most of the time and estimated that he won about a hundred dollars a week.

The paramedics were called, automatically. One of the dealers had refused to do CPR saying he didn’t want to be responsible for breaking ribs in a 95 year old. The paramedics tended to say he was right for not trying to resuscitate him at his advanced age. No one knew his real name and the paramedics could find only a simple business card with the letters, PPPPP, on it and a very nice drawing of a bird’s nest with 5 pale blue eggs in it.. They called the coroner of Peoria who could not immediately offer any information. He was taken to the coroner’s office for the autopsy and the beginning of a search for PPPPP’s real identity and next of kin. Permission for autopsy was not needed as the public death dictated that there be an inquest and a postmortem exam.

The coroner sent the Peoria Police to the address of the trailer park given to him by one of the employees of the Casino. They found the trailer in question and entered it on police business. Later, it was learned, the police report found no abnormalities but did find a diary and an address book. The coroner impounded both. The police made no mention of the many wall hangings and sculptures and hundreds of statuettes and thousands of small books, in many languages and dialects. A Mrs. Mary Martineau was listed in his address book as the person to call in an emergency. The coroner called and found Mary to be friendly and elderly and soft-spoken with a cracking voice. She understood only very slowly the nature of the phone call. Finally, she said, “Oh no! Poor Peter’s dead! And, he died alone, something he feared. Was he in pain?” The coroner reassured her that death was sudden and not apparently painful and that everything was done in an orthodox, professional manner. Mary seemed greatly relieved. “He’ll be a welcome presence for Jesus and the other Angels!” She said “He was a born again Christian and he will be with his friend Jesus forever, now. The last time I saw him was 10 years ago. I suspect he’s aged some. Did he still have his overwhelming collection of little books and bric-a-brac? I suppose you want me to take the body now and arrange a funeral like we did for Maude and Lily and Jacob. Oh my! I just remembered. He said he’d leave a will for me. Did you find a will?” The coroner said nothing was found by way of a will, but it wasn’t really an objective of the search. He suggested she call the police and make the search herself. “I have the keys!” claimed Mary. “He gave me a set when he bought the trailer 12 years ago with his gambling winnings. He was always a wily gambler and very lucky. I’ll bet he has a wad of money socked away somewhere… probably in his mattress. He didn’t trust banks, you know. He did like his little old books and little old statuettes which he’s collected since he was a kid.”

It took several months for the lawyers and coroner and local folks to dispose of the trailer and it’s contents. Mary Martineau was in the middle of it, as was her two younger brothers, Reuben and Benjamin and her two younger surviving sisters, Rebecca and Sarah Leah. They were the last of the 12 children of the Penn’s, Samuel and Esther, Mennonites from Holland, originally and Winnipeg essentially where all the children were born on a large, eventually very successful, dairy and wheat farm.

Peter Paul Penn had never married. He, however, did not lack for nieces and nephews for whom to care and with whom to have fun. Though he was very generous to his kith and kin and church, he was known as PPPPP in the family, Penny Pinching Peter Paul Penn if only because it made a neat name for everyone who knew him and his coin collection of pennies, especially Newfoundland pennies. He was always smiling and always joking. Early on, he discovered card games and loved them. He also loved chess and checkers and mental puzzles. He collected stamps and baseball cards, comic books and vinyl 78’s, 45’s and LP’s. Eventually, he built his own storage shed and filled it with his beloved bric-a-brac and other stuff. When he bought the trailer, he had quit the hard work of the farm which his family was selling. He took everything with him and no one in the family ever saw it again.

Mary was still in shock when she saw Peter’s belongings for the first time in over 20 years. She found an expert in antiques and sculptures, old art and old books and paid him a handsome fee. She sold him a few, certified, genuine, statuettes for $5,000CAD, a piece. He made a complete, detailed, compilation after 3 months of search and research. Mary was shocked again. The total value was $251,455,097.37 CAD. Amongst the bric-a-brac where works by August Rodin, Leonardo da Vinci, Paolo Michaelangelo, Henry Mancini, Onatopa Spaghetti, Rafael da Kublik, Mannicotti des Lupes and Camille Claudet. Amongst the prints and paintings were Monets, Manets, Renoirs, Picassos, Braques, Cezannes and Degas. Amongst the little books were signed, first editions of Gustav Flaubert’s, William Shakespeare’s, Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s, Andrew Huxley’s, Aldous Huxley’s, Julian Huxley’s, Yitzhak Horowitz’s, Allen Hodgkin’s, Samuel Katz’s, James Harding’s, Sigmund Freud’s, Johann Jung’s, Robert Adler’s, Adolph Hitler Schickelgruber’s Mein Kampf, Ayn Rands’s Democratic Manifesto, and George Orwell’s Animal Farm. There was even several, worn, note-books of never before seen organ concertos of Johann Sebastian Bach, written out by hand, the third Frau J. S. Bach and the first and only Frau W. A. Mozart without the help of their genius husbands, apparently.

Simple investigations by Mary and her kith and kin, at four, within reach, Casino’s, from Peoria, revealed sightings of PPPPP at all four, at different times of the day, though exactly the same times of the day, and week, at each. Thus, he was at the Chicago at 10, Tuesdays and Thursdays, at the Lincoln Memorial at 10, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and at the Illini and Rockford Spas at other times. The employees all added, without prompting, that he was welcomed and mocked, admired and suspected, and watched and ignored by the proprietors and other patrons. All of them, however, suspected strongly that he won more often than he lost… None of them suspected the immense size of the fortune that he was amassing. Almost all felt he was a borderline financial risk with a fixed income from the Social Security Administration. One thought he was way over his head. Only one knew the truth, that he made much more than an ordinary pension and that he wasn’t reporting it. That one correct person was at the Lincoln Memorial and was responsible for getting limousines and taxis for the patrons. PPPPP always arrived and left in a Citroen, top-of-the-line luxury automobile driven by two beautiful young women in very sexy uniforms.

PPPPP’s game was Texas Holdem, 2/4, $20 minimum entry fee, Pokey, Peoria, Poker. His other game was hoodwinking the dealer and his opponents into thinking he was having a stroke or a massive heart attack, or in the least, a serious angina attack, due to coronary artery arteriosclerosis. His autopsy, in fact, revealed that his arteries were clean as a whistle and that he died of a very slowly growing Benign, Frontal, Meningioma which had virtually displaced his brain, in the past 30 years. Lief Eriksen, MD, the coroner in Peoria, saw n

0o. actual brain damage except for displacement of the fro0n.tal lobe and, presumably very slow squeezing of the intracranial structures toward the back, away from the eyes. There were zero medical records to examine. There was zero history to be obtained from PPPPP’s kith and kin.

Laverne and Shirley, the fictional names of the two chauffeurs driving the luxury Citroens, Sandra Billings-Leigh and Marcia Morrison-Mulligan, both MBA’s and paid $75,000USD, annually, by PPPPP, for chauffeuring and sexual favours, not only had the use of the Citroens in the evenings, but also worked second jobs as very high class, substitute wives for visiting dignitaries into Chicago. Mayor Daly’s office was in fact the central clearing office for their nightly assignments. Presidents William Jefferson “Bill” Clinton and Ronald “The Communicator” Reagan had each spent the night with Laverne and Shirley, at the Palmer House. Marcia and Sandra’s specialty was a Lesbian Apache Dance for males and females, together or separately, dressed or naked. They also did lap dancing for CEO’s and Presidents of Corporations. Together, the ladies cleared some $500,000USD, annually, in addition to PPPPP’s salary and benefits. They were also PPPPP’s accountants and were able to supply Dr. Lief Eriksen with a full, formerly secretive accounting of PPPPP’s “books.” The actual incomes had never been declared. PPPPP’s death made the girls change plans and retire early, taking the secret books with them to Cancun where the money had been sequestered and from where the funds were made available for purchases. Dr. Eriksen was told there were more than three billion dollars in several numbered accounts, slated for distribution to Mary and the other siblings, as well as minor portions to Sandra and Marcia.

They revealed to Mary that PPPPP’s favourite flavour favour was to do the Apache Lesbian Dance for him while he stood naked and masturbated. Mary mused that as children she and the older sisters did something similar together with Peter Paul, in the stages when they said, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Mary mused for a long time. Growing up with Peter Paul was an interesting experience. No, he never penetrated her but he did everything else and so did she. Sometimes they played for hours amusing themselves by drawing lazy circles with their fingers on their ticklish skins. They amused themselves drawing with crayons on their chests and backs, stomachs and derrieres. Sometimes they drew a bubble bath and jumped in and splashed together for hours. “I love you Peter Paul,” Mary said out loud. I always will. I’ll miss you in the morning and I’ll miss you in the night. I’ll miss you everytime I feel a tingle or a tickle. You were wonderful, so gentle and playful. It’s too bad we couldn’t remain children forever!” Mary sat and smiled for many hours as she reminisced to herself.

Ten years later, a very familiar person showed up to play Texas Holdem Poker. Like PPPPP in the past, he looked like he was asleep or in pain, but he always won a few bucks. For the staff who had know Peter Paul, this stranger was about 20 years younger. Mary had died and only one sibling, Daniel, 88, remained alive, investigation proved. Daniel was contacted but he was barely amused. “You’re all bananas!” was his response to a suggestion that there was ghost in the gaming room. They called him RePete.

Within 2 months, RePete died in a freak car accident in the lobby of the casino. A stoned driver drove his Lexus through the glass doors and struck RePete perfectly. RePete was lifted into the air and came down like a rock on the marble floor of the foyer hitting the Ace in the middle of a Black Jack motif. He must have died instantly. There wasn’t even a gasp or a cry of pain. Laverne and Shirley came forward to claim the body after the coroner declared him dead due to an automobile-pedestrian accident. There was otherwise no sign of illness or dysfunction or deterioration. Laverne and Shirley paid for DNA testing. He was, indeed, PPPPP’s son. The mother was Mary! RePete was MMMMM, Martin Milner Miller, erstwhile CEO of MM Inc., Maurice McMaster Incorporated, a plastics company in Oakbrook, Illinois. He had been the 3^rd son of Mary and her husband John Miller, legitimately, but obviously, the paternity belonged to PPPPP. Though the family suspected some hanky-panky, there had never been enough interest to precipitate the telling of the truth. Mary’s pregnancy with MMMMM was perfectly hidden by her social situation. The truth went unnoticed for years. Even with the deaths of MMMMM, PPPPP and Mary, no one seemed interested. And, Shirley and Laverne had strong reasons to keep it all a secret.. Mary and Peter Paul had had an almost life-long affair with love, tenderness, empathy and understanding. As in the old joke, “Who could they tell?”

MMMMM had received the money from PPPPP’s estate in a blind trust with no names revealed, though he knew perfectly well from whence it had come. He took his retirement from MM Inc. and moved to Peoria. Further north, over the Wisconsin border, he purchased a huge property with huge boulders and a bottom less spring, much like Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. At great expense, he had constructed a library and a huge exhibition hall for displaying the statuettes and other art objects. The Museum built by MMMMM for PPPPP and Mary still stands. Amongst the treasures are the old, underground, real, original, biblical and mythical texts describing the prohibited, pleasures that siblings give to each other. Children and bible thumpers are not allowed in this section. Only those with genuine, non-judgmental, non-critical, genuine interests are allowed in. And that makes for very few visitors, except for me and thee… and, I’m not too sure about thee…

THE END

© Izzy Sommers

Welland, Canada

Tax Time, 2008