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by Wallydraigle
Slowly, Bob perused the cluttered tables of the flea market. Just when it seemed hopeless, something caught his eye. Copper, probably Persian, and definitely old. Ancient even. He asked the fat, greasy man in dirty blue overalls and pig-stained white tshirt how much. He almost seemed too occupied by his chaw to make the sale, but between spits he said ten dollars. The dumb hick probably thought he was taking advantage of the "ignernt city-slicker with more dollars than sense", but so what? He was the one who had no idea what he had. Bob quickly put the money into his sausage hands and left with the treasure.
In many ways it seemed odd right away. The bottle was copper, and clearly ancient, but perfectly preserved. The lead around the copper stopper was pristine, which meant that the same aromatic oils which were meant for a sultan's bathwater all those centuries ago were still inside. Probably even the Smithsonian didn't have anything like this. Cairo maybe, or Istanbul, but nowhere in the west. How the dumb clod came by it he didn't care.
He examined the stopper, but the insignia didn't belong to any of the noble houses he knew. Which meant it was way more common than he first had though... or way older. But he'd have his professor friend look at it later, now it was time for bed.
Bob drifted off, but his sleep was anything but peaceful. He dreamed he was in a sultan's palace, being fanned by naked women with ostrich tail feathers. He decided to take a bath, and as he dug at the lead surrounding the stopper in his bottle of bath oils, the hall erupted with noise, and light, and smoke. Above all the din cried a desperate voice. "FREE!"
Above bob towered the mighty genie. It mocked him, saying, "Fool! Thirty three centuries in Solomon's prison, and you have released me! After the first eight centuries I swore I would kill the one who did it, but now I am moved to mercy. I will give you your life, but I lay upon you a curse. A curse of SHIT! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
With the genie's laughter still trailing off, bob awoke in the toilet with the bottle in this hand. Now it didn't look like anything special, and the stopper had fallen out. There was no sign that there had ever been any exotic oils inside. Disappointed, he went back to sleep.
In the morning, Bob decided to go for his jog. At the corner he met up with Elizabeth. He made googly eyes at her and she flirted back. Just then, something happened... you know, down there. His pants got really loose and he heard something splattering on the ground. It was just a moment later when the smell hit him and he remembered the curse of shit that the genie had laid on him. Elizabeth screamed "What the hell are you doing?!?!" and all he could say in reply was "I tried to push it back in, but no luck. Damn shit kept slipping between my fingers. Help me, Elizabeth!" To which she said, "I can't believe you!" and ran off crying. "Call me!" he shouted after her, but then he heard the genie's cruel laughter, and he knew that his curse of shit had just begun.
So I saw "No Country For Old Men" last night.
I liked it. But I think the trailer park guy who found the money just wasn't very smart. I think his first mistake was walking up to all the trucks out in the desert. I wouldn't have done that. Once I saw all the dead bodies I certainly wouldn't have touched anything, and I wouldn't have walked up to the truck with the dirty windows that you couldn't see into, that's just ignorant.
When I found the money, I wouldn't have just taken it home without looking through it. There could be a snake in the bottom or something. I think I'd have dumped it out and gone through it right there in the desert where I knew I was alone, which is when I'd have found the transmitter, and not after some guy had been chasing me from motel to motel all over the state. The only smart thing to do with the money would be to bury it, with a gun. That way if things do get hairy, you can use it to bargain for your life (You know, the old "If you kill me you'll never find the money" bit), and then when whoever makes you dig it up, you've got the gun right there. I think Clint Eastwood did that once. Smart man, Clint Eastwood. Under no circumstances would I just be carrying it around with me. If I did have the money on me, and I was in a motel room, I wouldn't have hidden in the vent. I mean, come on, seriously?
I would not send my woman to go stay with her mother. Anybody and everybody could find out where her mother lives. It took the hit man like ten minutes. That's an amateur's mistake. I'd be like, hey baby, go pack your things, we're going camping. If you're just hanging out in the middle of nowhere, nobody who is looking for you is going to find you.
But all the trouble could have been avoided at two critical points. If he absolutely had to poke around the truck with the injured mexican in it, use a glove or a shirt tail or something so you don't leave any prints. Then, don't come back. Returning hours later with water for the guy? That's just retarded. That's asking for it. Number one, there's no way that guy was still alive by the time he got back, so it wouldn't do any good. Number two, fuck him, he's a drug running mexican piece of shit, he can get his own water. I mean, if you absolutely couldn't live with yourself (Not sure why not) call up the police from a pay phone and tell them there's a real thirsty beaner out there and they need to take him some GatorAIDS. Or better yet, call up immigration and tell them that.
Take it from me, I have more experience with finding large sums of money than almost everyone.
Killins:
Explosions:
Boobs: Nada
Oh yeah, Story:
Total:
Catch our discussion of this in this exciting thread.
