The Indian Princess

Mark has been in a state of excitement since he came home late the other night. He has always told me that his grandmother was Seminole Indian, which would make him one quarter Native American. While off drinking with some of his little buddies this past weekend, one of them who works at the Hard Rock Casino asked Mark, "So how much money do you get from the tribe?" 
"Nothing, why would I get money from the Seminole Tribe?"
"They own the Hard Rock Cafe, and make millions off the casino. Each member of the tribe gets ten thousand dollars a month, and you only have to be one quarter Seminole to get in on that. You would be eligible.”

So for three days Mark has been trying to contact his older sister to query her about grandma. Meanwhile as he waited to hear back from her, he has been making plans despite my cautions about the old counting your chickens’ thing.
"I'm getting a new car, we can fix up this dump, we'll buy a nice summer place in Chicago......", and on and on.
This morning his sister finally called back. The news wasn't good for Mark. It seems grandma was only one-half Seminole. The other half was French, and the last thing I heard on the subject as Mark wandered off into the bedroom was, "Damn, screwed by the white man again."