On the north side of town, in an well-to-do family that had nothing to do and nothing that they did well, was a dog. This dog was brown in color and was considered pure-bred although, it was produced by the same disgusting processes used to yield mongrels. The surviving members of the household were elderly. They had no offspring or close relatives. They had no one to whom they owed money to. And they had no patience with anyone who claimed to be one or the other or both. True, there was a distant tribe that would have a rightful claim on the day of their demise, but these uncouth hybrids wanted money not for its ascetic qualities, but get this, wanted money to actually spent it.
Partly because they wished to alarm their beneficiaries, but mostly due to their playful nature, they began to feign that the dog was their intended heir. The dog received proper grooming, regular doctor visits, a personal exerciser and trainer, as well as a psychiatrist that listened in vain for the problems that this dog stubbornly refused to share. Once a week he volunteered at the community youth center as a receptionist and once a month he was taken to the country for private meditation. The family's name was Pennysworth and they were worth quite a few pennies indeed.
The Pennysworth fortune was made during the gentile era of Prohibition, mainly by supplying everything and anything that was being prohibited at the time. However, that was long ago. So long ago in fact, that few persons could recall just how all of the money had come about. The citizenry that did remember, wouldn't. Well, at least not publicly. And those who were inclined to reveal the shenanigans were too busy laundering the history of their own windfalls to be bothered with ancient history. Yes, the Pennysworths were what some would call "filthy rich. "
Of course, superior etiquette dictates that we use the word "filthy" to describe things that we ourselves do not possess, in this case, "money." In other cases, it can be used with contempt and indignation, such as, "that filthy smoking habit." My memory of smokers is of a tolerant bunch, affable gadflies, able to mix and mingle with all tiers of the populace. However, today's smokers are a defensive lot, having been bullied, by the clean lungs of others, into sitting in the corner with the lepers. Therefore, because of this dramatic drop in social standing, it would not be wise, for two reasons, to make disparaging comments about them. For one, smokers resent it. And two, smokers have a ready command of that exotic tongue that SURF's mother had used in that card game so long ago.