Just Ask.
When I was 22, I conned a very rich alcoholic redneck landlord out of $400.00.
Not my landlord, by the way. A very good female friends' landlord. Anyway...
She, he, and I were very drunk; however I am a sort of 'professional' drunk (I have the t-shirt!), whereas the landlord (who I'll refer to as Dan) was a lush - mind you a very wealthy lush. Dan's only apparent love in life was impressing others with his money, house, land, and guns.
Yes, guns. This man had his own arsenal.
Wasted, we all shot round after round from automatic and semi-automatic weapons into a tree-line behind his house,
but that's a different story...
At around 2 am, for some God-known reason, Dan decided to brag. Brag about drinking, money, war, guns, chicks, how badass he was, how he could do ANYTHING he wants because of his cash-flow, et cetera.
I was in an extreme "Fight Club" fix at the time, so I decided to do just what the story said: just ask.
I asked him point blank that, since he was so rich and could do anything he wants, why not give me $400.00?
Hey, I said, you can do anything you want, right? What's $400.00?
Challenge a rich redneck landlord in front of a hot blonde tenant, and you've got the dealer in your pocket.
So he left,
and returned with a check made out to cash in the amount of $400.00. That fucking easy. On the memo line, it read, "For Joker." Could've been because of the malignant rictus that had taken over my face from the sheer delight this was actually working.
I set my alarm for 8:00am so I could get to the bank and cash the check before Danny-boy changed his mind.
The teller gave me $400.00 cash. In fucking hand.
I felt like Tom Sizemore in "Heat."
I parked in the mall parking lot and waited the 2 hours until it opened, walked directly to the sport store, and bought a $130.00 skateboard.
I'd never skateboarded in my life, mind you; just thought a Bob Burnquist model was a nifty fucking idea.
He had, after all, just won X-Games' skateboarding competition. Hell, I'd watched it on my own T.V. not 2 weeks before. Who wouldn't think, "Wow. What an excellent purchase. Clearly the item to buy first thing off the bat."
I used the board once. One damn time, as a kind of bobsled to fly at mach 2 into a muddy rain gutter.
I have no idea where the other $270.00 went. No clue...
unless you count the beer.
When I was 22, I conned a very rich alcoholic redneck landlord out of $400.00.
Not my landlord, by the way. A very good female friends' landlord. Anyway...
She, he, and I were very drunk; however I am a sort of 'professional' drunk (I have the t-shirt!), whereas the landlord (who I'll refer to as Dan) was a lush - mind you a very wealthy lush. Dan's only apparent love in life was impressing others with his money, house, land, and guns.
Yes, guns. This man had his own arsenal.
Wasted, we all shot round after round from automatic and semi-automatic weapons into a tree-line behind his house,
but that's a different story...
At around 2 am, for some God-known reason, Dan decided to brag. Brag about drinking, money, war, guns, chicks, how badass he was, how he could do ANYTHING he wants because of his cash-flow, et cetera.
I was in an extreme "Fight Club" fix at the time, so I decided to do just what the story said: just ask.
I asked him point blank that, since he was so rich and could do anything he wants, why not give me $400.00?
Hey, I said, you can do anything you want, right? What's $400.00?
Challenge a rich redneck landlord in front of a hot blonde tenant, and you've got the dealer in your pocket.
So he left,
and returned with a check made out to cash in the amount of $400.00. That fucking easy. On the memo line, it read, "For Joker." Could've been because of the malignant rictus that had taken over my face from the sheer delight this was actually working.
I set my alarm for 8:00am so I could get to the bank and cash the check before Danny-boy changed his mind.
The teller gave me $400.00 cash. In fucking hand.
I felt like Tom Sizemore in "Heat."
I parked in the mall parking lot and waited the 2 hours until it opened, walked directly to the sport store, and bought a $130.00 skateboard.
I'd never skateboarded in my life, mind you; just thought a Bob Burnquist model was a nifty fucking idea.
He had, after all, just won X-Games' skateboarding competition. Hell, I'd watched it on my own T.V. not 2 weeks before. Who wouldn't think, "Wow. What an excellent purchase. Clearly the item to buy first thing off the bat."
I used the board once. One damn time, as a kind of bobsled to fly at mach 2 into a muddy rain gutter.
I have no idea where the other $270.00 went. No clue...
unless you count the beer.

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