Like most of us, I don’t always live the life I think I should have. Last week, I had a house guest in from California, and, before he set out for Colorado Springs, the two of us spent some phone calls planning an exciting week of fun and adventure.
He arrived just ahead of the cold: Far from turning the town upside down, we were shut ins most of the week.
We managed to make the best of it by having some wonderful conversations. But it was still a bit dull to be shut in for what God and Darwin had both intended to be a most excellent time on the town. So, the thought naturally occurred to me — as a mature and dignified 54 year old — that, if reality wasn’t quite what I wanted it to be, I should forthwith revert to my childhood and “play pretend” that reality was even better than anything I had originally wanted it to be. Of course, who better to play pretend with than one’s older brother? After all, it had worked when I was five and he was seven.
So, towards the end of last week, I sent him an email:
A friend of mine who lives in California has come to visit for a week. My landlord is allowing him to stay free of charge in the empty apartment next door to me. As it turns out, we’ve been having a wonderful week in all ways except one minor, but irksome detail.
It seems he and I have somehow managed to run up a tab of $894. 63 at TNT’s Gentleman’s Dance Club.
We chanced upon the place purely by accident while out and about viewing shapely architecture. If you’re curious, I would describe TNT’s as “a secular house of worship”. The emphasis, of course, is on “secular”.
I would very much appreciate your advice on how to approach the management of the place. I figure they might be amenable to an advantageous settlement because a hefty portion of the money we spent was in the form of altruistically tithing their staff.
Moreover, much of the remainder was charitably intended by us to go directly into the staff’s clothing allowance. You would not believe, dear Bro, the state of threadbare impoverishment that we found those young
dancerssouls in. And in this weather! If my friend and I managed to avert even one case of frostbite with our donations, then I have no recourse but to believe the god of horninesssome greater power must have guided us there.
Alas! Our innocent charity towards them turned out to be marginally beyond our means. Who would have thought that could happen?
Please advise immediately,
After sending the email with childish delight, I sat down and waited. I tried to imagine how he would respond, but I could come up with nothing. And I waited. And waited.
Then, yesterday, he called. “Paul, something terribly disturbing has happened. A person pretending to be you has emailed me soliciting over 800 dollars in a transparent attempt to scam us. I say, “transparent” because they claim in their email to be having way more fun than I know for a fact you are capable of having. So, I’ve called the FBI in on it. You will be contacted by an agent in the next few days. Just answer his questions and all will be well.”
That was my cue. I picked the ball up and we went on like that, back and forth, for about ten minutes.
I love my brother. It doesn’t matter how corny our sense of humor is — even after 54 years, he still makes me laugh till I’m almost out of breath.