For What It's Worth (362 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Slovin (View user info) at 2005-08-09 00:05:13 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
I don't think I'll ever forget the day I had to give the Belgian Weasel back.
How could anyone forget a day like that? You start off at the top of the world, and you end up face-down in a pile of someone else's garbage, thrown out the window of your own apartment by some damn fool.
Ah, youth.
Well sit down, sit down boy, it isn't often I tell stories about my failures. It's about time you learned why your grandpa isn't a millionaire today. Mind you, I may have to back up a tad, I know your father never gave you the whole of it. Come to think of it you two wouldn't be here if I hadn't tried to steal that darned thing in the first place.
Nah, no real sentimental value back then boy, I never stole for my own desires; I stole for what it was worth.
= = =
I don't think I'll ever forget the day I threw that man out the window. What a feeling. That smug little thief managed to ruin my life for a straight month before I found him.
Will you be writing this down, for the details?
Ah, of course, of course I understand. Just the story. Of course the story is the most important bit. So where was I?
Ah, yes, the thief. At every turn he taunted and eluded me. When he stole the King's Weasel, vengeance became not only my moral obligation, but my legal duty. In a way he made it easier for me. But that's later on.
* * *
It was a famous Belgian Beef Stew recipe, a secret recipe, that's where it all began. It finally went up for sale on the internet - no, no, on a screen, in a computer, it was almost a separate world back then - and I wanted it. Generations of fine stews run in our blood, boy, as you well know by now. I do believe your father's boiling the onions as we speak. But I'm digressing a little here. I was... right, the auction.
So it went up for sale online. Back and forth, until just two of us remained, all the way into the wee hours of the morning. In the end I raised my bid amount just half a second before the auction ended. I won the recipe by a single dime.
Oh, words cannot fully describe the silliness and extravagance of the dance I danced when I saw that I'd beaten him.
It wasn't long after that when I discovered the effectiveness of selling things over the internet, too. "Why, I have plenty of junk around here," I'd think to myself; "Why not get rid of some of it?" And so I headed on down to the post office and got myself plenty of flat-rate shipping boxes. Real cheap, boy, real cheap to buy in bulk like that, remember it.
I decided to test that new beef stew recipe as I was packaging up some of my rubbish that had been sold for a hefty profit when I spot across the street the dirtiest, hungriest looking man you've ever seen. I was certain the moment I spotted him in that dark alley that he was about to starve to death. I grabbed the stew from the stove and rushed over. That's right, boy, you help your fellow man when he's in need. You never know when you'll need him back.
Well, that man happened to be quite grateful, and he did survive that day, however my apartment did not. Turns out the stove was still blazing as I ran across the street and all my earthly possessions were lost. I suppose it was about that time I turned to theft, alcoholism, and vagrancy. I tell you, boy, and don't tell your father I said this, but it was some of the best fun I've ever had in my life.
= = =
It was a famous Belgian Beef Stew recipe, a secret recipe, one that had been in my family for generations. Some scoundral had stolen it from my archives and was selling it on the internet. I managed to outbid everyone but one, and at 5AM as the birds outside my window began to sing their happy songs, I saw no happiness. I saw only a bold red X and the message "You did not win the item."
Never before had such rage built up inside me. I was unable to fulfill my duties at the Royal Palace the next day, you see, such a state I was in. I was almost fired, but ended up reassigned to Guest Duty under the supervision of Foreign Affairs Minister Karel De Gucht. Kissed a lot of patoot for the foreign dignitaries and celebrities we'd get every so often. Not a very rewarding job, usually, unless someone real famous would come, which wasn't often.
* * *
I'm afraid I'll have to skip over this portion of the story until you're a tad older, boy, and don't worry if I go senile - your father can fill in the gaps.
Anyway, after ending up in the gutter with nothing but the clothes on my back and some wonderful festive memories now long gone, I turned to a life of theivery. I looked around and saw all this stuff that other people had and I thought hey, they won't miss just some of it, would they? I'll just borrow some stuff, so I can fit in too.
Wasn't long then before I decided that I didn't need or want the stuff, what I wanted was the cold hard American greenbacks to buy my own. What? Oh - currency, boy, currency. Used to pass around green paper and call it wealth.
Back to the point at hand - I kept on stealing, but then I remembered the wonders of the internet auction. I had all this stuff, and I had some more boxes thanks to the cheap flat-rate prices at the post office, all I needed was an internet. Turned out the library had plenty.
About the first thing I learned was the value of symbolic and sentimental items, boy. Tell a man you've got a jar of peanut butter and he'll go to the store and buy his own. Tell him you've got a jar of peanut butter once eaten out of by Elvis Pressly, and he'll offer his first born son for it. So I started to steal some more, from famous people. That turned out to be quite a task, being that I had no equipment, and it was really much easier to steal from political figures.
Probably the proudest moment of my life was pilfering the President's favorite ball-point pen. He ended up cancelling some overseas trip so he could put up some more security. He was real fond of his pens, that old boy was, never did catch me. Sold it for about three thousand, I believe, enough to expand my own operations to other countries.
= = =
Cancelled. None of us could believe it. The most powerful man in the world coming to visit the Royal Palace of Brussels, and he cancels three days prior. They'd really beefed up the security, you know, for the event, paid a lot of people overtime. They spent our entire year's budget on that event, expecting to make it back with interest in advertising during the media coverage. There was none. I was demoted again to Palace Sentry. A fat lot of nothing. You stand around and stop the trees from invading, was about the size of it, and a salary to match.
* * *
My first target was one that had recently made the news even in places where a vagrant like me could've seen it: the King of Belgium's favorite Gold Weasel statuette. It was about 4 inches high and sat on his desk. Should've been easy, the tour goes right by it, and you can get anywhere in life if you're shamelessly nice to the people around you. That weasel was worth a lot, boy, trust me on that one. The trickiest part was getting there, past all the guards.
I decided, in my youthful arrogance, to charge right into the palace an hour before my plane for America was scheduled to leave, grab the Weasel, high-tail it out of there and jump on the flight.
Most of it went according to plan. I had to run through only a single guard on my way through the tour to get to the Weasel. Knock 'em down hard, boy, that's the key, gotta ram your shoulder blade right into their chest, knocks the wind out of 'em to boot. I expected them to follow me, what I didn't expect was for them to follow me all the way back to America and into my very own apartment. The King himself came - truth, boy, the truth, the King of Belgium visited MY apartment - took back his Weasel and had his guards throw me out the window.
Ah, I met your mother for the first time in that pile of garbage. She helped me up, offered me some beef stew, and I knew right away it was love.
How'd he get the Weasel back? Well, he asked nicely, of course. You've got to do it if they ask nicely. Oh, hello there! Another guest? Well, sit down then, sit down, you must tell us a story; it's story time and I'm afriad I just finished mine! I'm in the middle of the manuscript for my book, I'll need ideas!
= = =
Knocked me down, he did, I didn't have a clue why. He ran right up to the King's desk and then left. Wasn't until the King himself came in a few hours later did he notice what was missing, and he took a bunch of us on his private jet to t he destination of the American's flight back home. Spectacular persuit, it was, tailed him for a while, until finally we ended back up at his house. And wouldn't you know, it was the same darn man as all those times before! Well, the King ordered us to throw him out the window, and so we did, right into a pile of rubbish! Oh, it was a joyous time.
Well anyway that's about it. You're sure you don't want to write this down? Pretty nice story though, right? I'm sure you can find a way to use it. Entertainment for your grandson here if nothing else. So what's the book for? Last memoirs of your life, eh chap?
* * * * * *
Well, no, it's about what it's always been about. I'm not writing these stories for myself. I'm writing them for what they're worth. A pretty penny, my boy, all my life I've been looking for the pretty pennies. I think tonight you may have doubled the worth of my words.
As an aside, old bean, I'd much like to thank you for introducing my wife and I, even if your methods were a bit unorthodox. Ah, I believe my son's famous beef stew is ready.
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Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2005-10-30 05:21:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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