Friday, August 19, 2011


Camel's Billboard

     “Dan warry joo kan trust me, besides now you know where I lives,” She smiled.

     “Okay, bye now, we’ll see you in a few days.” Lisa smiled, and left. It was the last time she saw either of them or her money.

     When Dick came home, she couldn’t wait to tell him the good news. As soon as she mentioned that she took ten grand out of their account, he grabbed the purse, and poured the contents onto the floor. They were in shock as shredded newspaper rained down on the  floor.

     “It a moiphy, ya mom’s bin conned,” the detective lamented. “Diz hea biz coid is a phony fo sher. Dat guys bin doing diz fo a long time, an he ain’t Cuban, he’s been known to say he’s Argentine, a Spaniard, an a bunch a oda tings, but all he is is a bum.”

     “Ya think ya kin catch im?”

     “Nah they long gone by na.”


     “Yea! Ya don’t tink det sweet lil goil wuz an inosent by standah doya?”

     “Oh no!” Dick winced.

     “Mind if I smoke?” He asked as he pulled out a butt .

     “Can I have one please?

     “I thought ya dint smoke.”

     “Well I don’t really, but now is as good as any ta start, uh?”

     “Hea ya go pal. Ima file diz hea wepoit, boot I wudn’t go getting me hopes up.”

     A long time ago an old wise man told me that you can’t fool an honest man. In order for a con to work, there must be a little larceny in his prey. If she wasn’t into getting something that obviously wasn’t hers, she would never have been conned. Last I saw him, Dick still hadn’t forgiven his mom, and he was smoking more than that old Camel’s billboard on Times Square.

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