Check the check

 Zion Press -- While tugging her mask to make it fit better, Becky headed down to the mailbox, getting there just a few minutes after the mail truck had left. (Mail truck. How sexist was that?) She was concerned that her no good neighbors had stolen it. It hadn’t happened before, but you never could tell with those All American folk. For Pete’s sake, they listened to country music and put out the flag on every appropriate day. At least, she thought it may be appropriate, she wasn’t sure. Usually, it seemed kind of random, like June 14 and December 7.

Becky was documenting everything about the neighbors; that’s why she remembered those days in particular. Document, document, document her friends had told her, when she mentioned the barbecues and get togethers they had with their friends. Why, they even hung a Nascar flag, and everyone knew what a Nascar flag meant!
Unemployment when this whole pandemic hit hadn’t treated Becky well. She was used to working at least part time, and had been deemed unessential, so she skulked around her house, trying to make her meager savings stretch. One reason she checked the mail so diligently was to make sure no one stole her check. Rumors had been fast and furious that everyone would get a check to tide them over.
Yes! As she pulled out the stack, she saw the tell-tale signs of a check. Tearing open the envelope, she screamed as she saw the signature name. Donald Trump! Why had no one told her it would bear his signature? Angrily, she vowed she would accept no help from that man and tore the check into small pieces before stalking back to her house, pleased that she had done her part.

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