The Jump

"Old Man Thompson!  Hi, Old Man Thompson!"

Davy was your stereotypical energy-filled youth.  Mr. Thompson was your stereotypical youth-loathing senior.  The two of them, of course, got along like peanut butter and jelly.  Today, Mr. Thompson was in the middle of raking leaves out of the front yard, only to look up upon hearing Davy's irritating high-pitched voice.

"What do you want, kid?" Mr. Thompson grumbled.

"Old Man Thompson, did I ever tell you how high I can jump?"

"Why should I care?"

"I'll bet you five bucks I can jump higher than your house!"

Mr. Thompson glanced up at his house.  It was a standard one-story number with a sloped, shingled roof; measured from ground to peak, it stood at maybe fifteen feet.

"All right, kid, it's a bet.  Anything to shut you up."

Grinning from ear to ear, Davy stepped back, then jumped about a foot into the air.

For a moment, only the howling of the wind could be heard.  Then Mr. Thompson dropped his rake and burst out laughing.

"Are you kidding me, kid?  You call THAT jumping higher than my house?  Do they not teach kids how to measure in school these days?"

"You heard what I said, Old Man Thompson," the youth shot back.  "So let's see how high your house jumps!"

Davy's grin became even wider.  He knew this was usually the point where the other party realizes they've been suckered and either admits defeat or loses their temper.  Little did he know that Mr. Thompson had been planning for this occasion for years.

"All right then, kid-- watch."

Mr. Thompson directed Davy's confused gaze towards his house, then reached into his jacket pocket and pressed a button on a remote control.  A few sudden clicks came from the house's foundation, and right after that, several hidden springs decompressed, launching the whole house two or three feet off the ground.  The building hung tantalizingly in the air for what seemed like several seconds, then landed back on the foundation, the springs catching it neatly.

As the house bobbed up and down on the springs, Mr. Thompson turned his attention back to Davy.  The kid's eyes were now as round as dinner plates; his previously grinning mouth, hanging open in shock.

"Well, kid, I'd say my house jumped higher than you did.  Five bucks, please."

Davy's voice was now almost a whisper.  "But... I was going to buy a comic book..."

"What was that you said, kid?"

Unable to look directly at Mr. Thompson or his house, Davy reached into his pocket and produced a crumpled five-dollar bill, which he shoved into the senior's hands before running off to do who-knows-what.

Mr. Thompson chuckled as he stuffed the fiver into his back pocket.  His custom-built lightweight house with the spring-loaded foundation hadn't been cheap, but the look on that kid's face had made it all worthwhile.  Being five dollars richer never hurt, either.