Conclusive of the Passing: A short story transcribed by Burbon in 2004...

Millionaire Platinum's son turned eleven on this day. But Millionaire Platinum was no millionaire at all. As such, his gift was a product of his heart more than his wallet. All his life, his son had loved the pheasants on the countryside of which he grew up. All 11 years of his short, but sweet life. And there it was. The perfect mesh pheasant cap. For fifty cents he could purchase the greatest smile from his son he could imagine. Nearly in tears with the simple thought, he quickly paid for it so that nobody would snatch it from beneath him and leave his struggle for the perfect gift to continue. Rather, he would bring the greatest smile of all for his son to bear on this day.

On the afternoon of cake and gifts, Millionaire Platinum waited in great anticipation. Soon this marvel of a cap would bring a marvel of a smile to his little marvelous child. And for this, he could not wait. He was already gleaming with excitement, knowing his son would be gleaming much more in a short moment. His son filtered through the presents, of which they were numerous, obviously opening the big ones first, and progressively growing less excited with the unraveling of each consecutive gift. Millionaire Platinumís was last. Wrapped in newspaper with a massive "I love you" etched across the top, NAME pulled open the bow-tied yarn and his huge gleaming smile didn't happen.

Even after NAME had opened all his other costly gifts, Millionaire Platinum still prepared for a celebration and maybe he was just naÔve, but he never considered the thought of disappointment. It seems his son had reached the age where gifts of the wallet began to conjure up more meaning than gifts of the heart.

This love filled gift was simply a little more flimsy, and a little less aerodynamic and functional than his new spectacular line of toys. His forced "thanks" under his breath struck a chord in Millionaire Platinum's heart that resonated into the lump in his throat.

Before the year had ended, Millionaire Platinum saw his son's cap resurface once. His annual Goodwill drop-off held a stack of shirts NAME no longer fit into, and the mesh cap that should have been loved. Millionaire Platinum could have only expected it, and probably tried to, but it hit him just as hard anyway.

Since then, it is not known through where exactly its travels have taken flight. Which adventures have been forged upon headtop. Its condition assumes many. It assumes its meshback made good use as a shower scrubber. It assumes it kept a middle aged man's head both protected by the sun, and cooled by the pacific breeze in the dozens of nascar tours that have since poured through the tracks.

Its meshy inelegant funtion appears to have been served various duties elsewhere in life, and 14 long years later, it resurfaced to rest of these at the Goodwill NAME often shopped at.

Though far wealthier than his father ever was, NAME had learned from him the value of a dollar, and learned affection of the heart over fondness of the wallet. Though this was all Millionaire Platinum wanted to teach him, it seems almost in irony that it was through Millionaire Platinum's passing that NAME began to understand this.

The funeral congregated more people together that day than anyone would have thought. Since that hour, NAME could have cared less for the various items of this world when he hadn't a father to use them with. It seemed almost absurd any more to smile over a toy in the light of the passing of the person that loved him most.

But as he walked through the isle, looking for bargains, looking for things that may bring a smile to someone, he saw it. Nobody else would have noticed it. Torn, crooked, raggy, and at fifty cents, the best bargain he'd ever seen. Not only did he get to have his father back for a brief moment, but he got to feel eleven years old one more time. For fifty cents, that's really not bad.