One upon a time there was a young man who went to war to defend his country. When he came home he needed a job, so he went to work doing what he had done in the war, more or less.
He did well and married his boss' daughter. He didn't love the girl he married, but he was making money. Soon he and his bride moved back to Florence and opened their own business with Daddy's money. The young man prospered, very much so.
The man and his rich bride had two children, but since the man didn't love his wife, and since he had to work to keep up their lifestyle, he really didn't take much interest in his children, and his wife was out spending his money as fast as he made it. The man realized he had made a very bad bargain in life.
Soon his children were grown and the law of averages took effect. One was wonderful and worked with the man in his business. The other was a lie-a-bout who did drugs and was a bottomless money pit.
Soon this bad son had children of his own, which this man also had to support. It was a source of endless embarrassment that this son's name was always in the paper, but at least he could count on the local paper just using the initials, not like the full name which they did with everyone else.
Time passed and the man was now a grandfather. Unfortunately his grandson was just like his son, only worse. That's how things work out when you don't supervise children. That's our moral here. That and you don't have to worry about the local paper allowing the grandson's name to be mentioned if you have enough money.
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