“No, I don’t want to buy anything from you!” Coral Graf said to The Man Next Door, hiding her pennies in the corner.
With the chain on the apartment door, the nine-year-old girl peered at her neighbor through the three-inch opening.
“Please leave me alone,” Coral said, closing the door. “I have other people who need my pennies more than you do . . .”
Earlier that morning, The Man Upstairs dropped hundreds of pennies into the tin can under the apartment’s heating vent. Like always, Coral promised The Man Upstairs she would do good with his money, never keeping it for herself.
After her previous problems with The Man Downstairs stealing her pennies, she shoved a bookshelf over the floor vent. So, The Man Downstairs could never again stretch his hand through the floor vent and swipe the money from the tin can.
Now she was not going to let The Man Next Door bully her into buying all kinds of frivolous junk that she didn’t need.
As Coral shut the door, her mother called from her parents’ bedroom: “Who’s at the door, Honey? Is it the Milkman?”
“Oh, it’s The Man Next Door on his weekly Saturday morning sales call,” Coral said. “I’m sure he’ll be back . . .”
“If he comes back, get the frying pan from the kitchen, stick it through the door, and flatten him!” Mrs. Graf yelled.
“Don’t you give him a dime! Oh, I mean a penny!” Mr. Graf said. “The Man Across the Street needs money for rent.”
“We’re going back to sleep,” Mrs. Graf called to Coral. “Have some desserts for breakfast and watch cartoons!”
Coral grabbed sweets from the refrigerator, adjusted the TV antenna, and turned-on Saturday morning cartoons.
She filled her stomach with desserts from her father’s deli: chocolate babka, chocolate-covered matzo, and honey cake.
“Not again!” Coral said, when there was a knock on the door halfway through her favorite cartoon TV show.
Making sure the door chain was secure, Coral opened the door a smidge, only to find The Man Next Door had returned.
“What do you want?” Coral said, running to get the frying pan from the kitchen. “I’m never giving you my pennies!”
She shoved the black iron frying pan through the door. “I have the family frying pan, and I’ll use it!” Coral said.
Then she threw a handful of Hamantaschen cookies, Jewish fruit-filled butter cookies, through the door.
“Go away! You’re jealous because The Man Upstairs gives me pennies, and he doesn’t give you anything!” she yelled. “You’re almost worse than The Man Downstairs who steals. You fib to people by selling them garbage!”
Coral yelled so loudly that the entire apartment complex heard their conversation and defended her.
“I’m never buying your scam artist garbage again!” one neighbor yelled. “Don’t leave anymore pamphlets at my door!”
“Shut him down!” another neighbor yelled. “He woke me up this morning, and I never get to sleep in . . .”
“Coral gives her pennies to people who need them!” a third neighbor said. “Why does he want money from her?”
Throwing one last Hamantaschen at The Man Next Door, Coral slammed the door and went back to watching cartoons. By next Saturday morning, the apartment building was quiet and peaceful, and The Man Next Door ended his sales calls.
Instead, Coral went about the neighborhood helping others, making sure The Man Around the Corner had hot coffee. In case The Man Next Door came back, Coral kept the frying pan handy, but she thought the cookies did more to scare him away.
Copyright 2015 Jennifer Waters
Sequel to "The Man Upstairs: The Story of Coral Graf and Pennies from a Tin Can" (1/3/15) and "The Man Downstairs: The Story of Coral Graf and Her Missing Pennies" (7/13/15).
Dedicated to my grandmother, Augusta Renner Graf Waters.
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