Jonathon Wart and the Risk Factor
Terence O’Grady
Copyright 2012 Terence O’Grady
Cover by Joleene Naylor
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is a coincidence. The geographical locations in South Africa are fictional.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Living at Uncle Wart’s
Chapter 2: Learning the Rules
Chapter 3: The Plot Thickens
Chapter 4: Happy Birthday to You!
Chapter 5: Problems Ahead
Chapter 6: The Adventure Begins
Chapter 7: Touch Down…and Trouble
Chapter 8: Mr. Thumbs’ Intentions
Chapter 9: The Mine at Last
Chapter 10: Felicia Checks In
Chapter 11: A Closer Look
Chapter 12: Danger Ahead!
Chapter 13: Back to the Drawing Board
Chapter 14: A Change in Fortune
Chapter 15: Homecoming and Celebration
Chapter 1: Living at Uncle Wart’s
Twelve-year old Jonathon Wart was not normally confused. He was a smart kid, he knew it, and he felt confident about most things.
But a lot of strange things had been happening lately. So now, for just about the first time in his life, Jonathon admitted that he didn’t know all the answers.
First of all, it had been strange just coming to live in his uncle’s house. Uncle Wart was their father’s older brother, who had taken both Jonathon and his younger sister Lizzie in months earlier after their parents had passed away when a cruise ship went down in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and their European vacation had come to an abrupt end. The kids were, naturally, in shock. Their parents had been world travelers and had been gone a lot (the children had been raised largely by their housekeeper, Mildred) but Jonathan and Lizzie missed them terribly of course and had felt lost and abandoned. Then Uncle Wart had stepped in and offered to adopt them. Within days, the children had re-located from their family home in Iowa to their Uncle’s elegant mansion in Philadelphia.
And Jonathan and Lizzie were very grateful. They had a place to live and plenty of food to eat. They now had a governess and live-in tutor instead of going to school. Her name was Emma Wang; she was about forty years old with short, red hair that was generally in disarray and she had a pleasant smile. They were really quite fond of her. Still, they missed their friends at school.
And then there was Uncle Wart himself. Rather tall and sporting a closely-shaved head, he had some strange habits to say the least. He drank yak’s milk or ate yak cheese somewhere between seven and eight times a day. Cow’s milk he didn’t trust. “Cows are stupid animals,” he would always say. “Just look at them. They only have one expression—stupid. Anyone who drinks cow’s milk will get just as stupid.”
Jonathon didn’t really agree with this. Coming from Iowa, he and his sister were fairly well acquainted with cows. He admitted that cows had a rather limited range of facial expressions but, he insisted, cows did have personalities—sort of. They could look friendly as well as stupid. They could look concerned. They could look depressed. There were a lot of emotions that cows could express if they felt it was really necessary.
But Uncle Wart wasn’t buying any of it. “Nonsense,” he would say. “Cows are among the dumbest of animals. Now yaks…give me your Himalayan yaks for native intelligence any day. A yak can really think on his feet,” he would insist.
At that point in the conversation, Lizzie would normally roll her eyes dramatically and Jonathon would usually just shrug and mumble something like “Whatever you say, Uncle Wart.”
It probably goes without saying that Uncle Wart believed that the unusual mental capabilities of the yak (and Uncle Wart owned a whole herd of them) could be passed on to humans through yak milk. It was there for the taking; any man, woman or child could become substantially smarter just by drinking large quantities of yak milk. Nothing was clearer to Uncle Wart, and he found it amazing that everyone didn’t see things the same way he did.
And exercise. In Uncle Wart’s mind, the best thing you could do after downing a quart or two of yak’s milk was to engage in robust exercise. And any time was the right time. After drinking yak’s milk in the middle of the night (his servants brought it to him on a silver tray), Uncle Wart would launch into a strenuous exercise routine: sit-ups, chin-ups…the works. At first he insisted that Jonathon and Lizzie follow along with this fitness program. But neither Jonathon nor his little sister were at all happy about being woken up in the middle of the night to drink yak’s milk and do exercises. First of all, both of them hated yak’s milk and they didn’t like yak cheese much better. And then, when you added a rigorous exercise program to yak’s milk at 2:00 AM, the kids usually ended up with sit-ups, chin-ups and throw-ups.
Uncle Wart had been disgusted by this of course. “What’s wrong with this younger generation?” he would whine. “They’ve got no gumption.” Gumption was one of Uncle’s favorite words. He would apply it to just about any situation. If the kids were slow to wake up in the morning, it was clearly their lack of gumption. If they took too long to fall asleep at night, it was the same story.
“Look at me,” he would insist. “Am I smarter than everyone else? No! I have made a great success of myself because of my gumption—my get-up-and-go!”
Actually, Uncle Wart really did think he was smarter than everyone else. But he knew it sounded better if he seemed more modest. And he also figured it would have more impact on Jonathon and Lizzie because, if the truth were told, he didn’t figure that they were much brighter than his own daughter, Felicia. The very fact that they balked at drinking yak’s milk seven or eight times a day was proof enough of that for him.
Lizzie, on her part, was not confident of her uncle’s sanity. Once, when they had lived with their uncle for about three weeks, his sister had charged into Jonathon’s bedroom late at night, her light brown ponytail swinging behind her, and asked him point blank whether he thought Uncle Wart was simply a lunatic and should be institutionalized, preferably sooner rather than later. Lizzie was twenty months younger than Jonathon but was almost as tall and had very definite ideas of her own. And she had been perfectly serious about Uncle Wart.
Jonathan hesitated before responding. “I don’t know Lizzie…it’s hard to say. I mean the yak’s milk thing is a little crazy and the middle of the night sit-ups are not a lot of fun…but maybe he’s just eccentric. I’m told rich people are sometimes eccentric.”
“You’re just being polite,” Lizzie replied. “You know he’s a nut job.”
“Listen, Lizzie,” said Jonathon. “Sure, he’s a little weird. But he’s been nice enough to give us a home.”
“Yeah? Well I’m not sure that any four walls and a roof are worth eight glasses of yak milk a day.”
“They’re pretty nice walls, Lizzie. You’ve got a huge bedroom all to yourself. You’ve even got your own flat panel TV.”
At that point, Lizzie shrugged, sighed, and walked slowly back to her room mumbling that absolutely nothing in the world could make up for having to drink all of that stupid yak milk.
So time passed and the children began, more or less, to get used to their uncle. Until that fateful day when Uncle Wart decided that he himself must educate them about the ways of the world—in particular the business world.
Now it must be said right away that Uncle Wart, despite his rather peculiar ideas about yak’s milk and middle of the night exercise sessions, had made a great success of his life, if one measures those things based on riches acquired. His parents had not been at all wealthy so Uncle Wart had inherited nothing from them. B
ut he had worked hard at a number of different jobs—first a paper route, then a milkman’s assistant, then a job as a delivery boy. After that he had spent years in the mailroom of a major investment firm, finally working his way up through the company to become the vice president of the firm. But where he had really made most of his mountain of wealth was in his personal investments. Uncle Wart quickly found out that he had an excellent instinct for knowing when to take risks in business. He took risks in the stock market, he took risks in real estate, he took risks in supporting start-up companies. And they all paid off. By the age of thirty, Uncle Wart was a fabulously wealthy man.
True, he had only the one daughter with whom he could share his wealth (his wife having deserted him years earlier), and he did regret that a little. He regretted even more that his one daughter, Felicia, seemed to have no head for business at all. She was quite good at spending his money, but a hopeless failure when it came to earning any. He worried about Felicia, he really did.
When Jonathon and Lizzie came to live with him, Uncle Wart felt that it was his duty not just to give them a nice place to live, but to pass on to them the benefits of his great experience in the business world. “They are my brother’s children after all,” he would say, “and the least I can do is show them the best way to become successful in this world.”
This thought gave Uncle Wart a great deal of satisfaction. Now he had two more children to whom he could pass on his great knowledge of the world of business and the most important advice he or anyone else could ever give. And that advice boiled down to two words: Take Risks. If you want to succeed in this world, you must take chances. “But,” as Uncle Wart was always fond of saying, usually with his finger wagging vigorously in the air, “you must take intelligent risks! That’s how you make a real splash in the world’s swimming pool!”
Never mind that the children had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, Uncle Wart had decided it was time to take action. So he informed the children’s tutor, Ms. Wang, that the children would be adding one more class to their school schedule—a class taught by Uncle Wart himself. And that class would be called “Risking Your Way to Riches.” It would meet three times a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Ms. Wang should come too because it wouldn’t hurt her to know a thing or two about business as well.
When informed that they would be adding a new class to their schedule (along with Math, English, Social Studies, History and their choice of French or Swahili), the children naturally had mixed feelings. They appreciated that Uncle Wart was trying to be helpful and share with them the benefits of his experience. But, frankly, neither of them was particularly interested in business and Jonathon himself was not overly fond of taking risks. Still, the children agreed that the thing to do would be to be polite and listen and try to sound as fascinated as possible by a subject which to them seemed dry as dust.
Unfortunately, poor Uncle Wart hadn’t really had much time to pass on this important legacy of risk-taking. For whatever benefits yak milk may have provided him over the years, it did not improve his longevity. Uncle Wart passed away just three months after Jonathon and Lizzie had come to live with him.
But Uncle Wart had looked ahead to that grim eventuality and had made a will. Even if he could not be present to teach Jonathon and Lizzie about the value of taking risks, he would make sure they learned that valuable lesson by experience. Now in the three months that Uncle Wart had come to know Jonathon and Lizzie, he was (sad to say) beginning to wonder if they really had any more aptitude for business than his daughter Felicia, who was now thirty years old and had never earned a penny in her life. Nevertheless, he was willing to let them prove themselves (especially Jonathon because he was soon to be thirteen years old) by setting up a set of conditions by which they might show themselves worthy to wield his great fortune. Jonathon had heard a little about these conditions through a brief discussion with the family solicitor, Mr. Thumbs. But now it was time for him to really find out what was going on. And for that, he had to have a serious talk with his governess and tutor, Emma Wang.
Chapter 2: Learning the Rules
One day, about two weeks after Uncle Wart had departed to the great beyond, Jonathon found himself seated in a large, cushy chair in his uncle’s enormous study having that serious talk with Emma Wang, who was seated across from him.
“So Jonathan,” said Emma in a soft, rather kindly voice, “do you think you fully understand the conditions of your Uncle’s will?”
Jonathon sighed deeply. “I really have no idea. I’m supposed to take all his money and take risks with it, I guess. I’m supposed to get even richer by taking risks.”
Emma smiled. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s quite that simple. Look…let’s go over it one more time.”
“Really, Emma? You’ve tried to explain it about ten times already. Will the eleventh time really be the charm?”
Emma crossed over to Jonathan and gently tousled his shaggy, dark brown hair.
“You never know, Jonathon. You never know.”
Jonathon moaned and cradled his chin in his right hand.
Emma put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not that complicated, really. And what you just said is mostly true. Uncle Wart wanted you to prove that you, along with your sister, are worthy of handling his great fortune. His will was very specific. You are to inherit everything—at least temporarily. Everything means about 10 billion dollars—give or take a couple of million—under the condition that you increase his fortune by taking intelligent risks.”
“But what makes a risk intelligent, Emma,” asked Jonathon, a pained expression crossing his face. “I’m not naturally a risky person, so taking any risk seems dangerous to me.”
“Yes, I know, Jonathon,” Emma replied. “That part’s going to be particularly tricky for you. But you’ve got to try. You can’t just sit on Uncle Wart’s huge fortune. If you don’t think of risky ways to increase it…well, my guess is that Mr. Thumbs will take action to have the will voided.”
“So basically an intelligent risk is anything that makes more money?”
“Sure, although I’m confident that Uncle Wart wouldn’t have wanted you to do anything illegal or immoral.”
“Emma, you know I’m going to need your help with all this, right?”
“Of course I’ll do everything I possibly can to help you and your sister. But remember…I don’t know a thing about business myself so I’m not sure how useful my advice will be.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Let’s not worry too much about it right now, Jonathon. You’re a smart boy and I’m sure you’ll figure all of this stuff out eventually. Just give yourself some time. Now, do you remember the other conditions of Uncle Wart’s will?
“I’m to continue living here in this enormous house where I frequently get lost,” began Jonathon.
“Yes, you’re to live here, along with your sister and your new guardian, Mrs. Felicia Wonderly. Who, I might say, has been pretty good about the whole thing. As Uncle Wart’s only daughter, she thought she was going to inherit this monstrous house and all of her father’s money all by herself. She was shocked when her father’s will turned everything over to you.”
“No,” said Jonathon thoughtfully, “I suppose she didn’t expect that.”
“No, she certainly didn’t,” replied Emma. “So now she doesn’t get the house and the fortune that she thought was hers. Furthermore, by the terms of her father’s will, she must serve as your official guardian as well as your sister’s. That’s a responsibility she hadn’t counted on.”
“Yeah…but seriously, Emma,” said Jonathon, “I really don’t think she worries too much about it. I mean, I haven’t even seen Felicia for almost a week. And the last time she dropped in, it was just to collect her salary from Thumbs. If she didn’t get such a large allowance for keeping an eye on Lizzie and me, I doubt she even would have agreed to the plan.”
“Hey, a little gratitude please! Felicia may
not win the guardian-of-the year award, but it must be a lot better living here than being in a foster home somewhere.”
Jonathon sighed. “You know, Emma, sometimes I wonder. At least foster parents would acknowledge my existence once in a while.”
“Sure, I know Felicia’s been a little distant,” said Emma, nodding her head in agreement. “But you’ve got to cut her a little slack. Things aren’t so great for Felicia right now. She’s a grown woman, her marriage didn’t work out, and now it can’t be easy to have to watch over a thirteen-year old boy who has just been handed the fortune that she thought she was going to inherit.”
“But I’m not thirteen until next week.”
“We all know that, Jonathon. But when you turn thirteen, all of the money comes under your control.”
“Yeah,” said Jonathon. “I guess I’ll have the money and that’s nice. But I don’t really have a clue exactly what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“That’s where Mr. Thumbs comes in. He was your uncle’s financial advisor and your uncle’s will made it clear that he would stay on as your financial advisor. And you need one. You know you do.”
“Yes, I know. But Mr. Thumbs is so….and he’s not particularly…well, I don’t know…human, I guess.”
“Well, I’ll admit he’s not the warmest person I’ve ever met but…”
“Emma! He’s a frosty cone in a black suit and you know it.”
“OK, fine. But it really doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t need him to be friendly. You just need him to give good advice.”
“About what risks to take?”
“Exactly! Since your uncle left his fortune to you on the condition that you take intelligent risks, Mr. Thumbs can help you decide which risks are…you know…intelligent.”
“Honestly, Emma, wasn’t Uncle completely crazy about the subject? I mean…”
“Give credit where it’s due, Jonathon. Your uncle made his fortune by taking risks—smart risks— and coming out on top. He always believed that you have to take lots of risks to succeed in life.”
“Yes, but some of his requirements are just looney,” said Jonathon. “The will says that I should try to do one risky thing every day of my life. I can’t possibly do that. And I’m supposed to take a major financial risk once every month once I reach the age of thirteen. Do you know how hard that’s going to be?”