The Devious Duo Reveal Their Newest Plan to Fleece Fools
Sam Venable
Department of Irony
At first glance, I thought it was a mirage in the heat of an early fall afternoon. No such luck. Blistering temperatures notwithstanding, this was no hallucination.
Headed straight toward me on the sidewalk was that bumbling pair of con artists, Fast Freddie and his cousin Devious Dickie.
There being no convenient escape route, I braced for their latest spiel of hokum.
I’ve written about Fast Freddie and Devious Dickie on several occasions. They mysteriously bump into me when seeking investors for their latest “can’t-miss bidness opportunity.”
In financial circles, this is known as separating fools from their money.
The first time, it was Fast Freddie’s well-moving company, “Wells Bells.” He dreamed it up after reading how senior citizens were abandoning the family farm and moving to town.
“Not only do these folks have a sentimental attachment to their faithful old well,” he said, “they’re also leery of city water.”
Fast Freddie went on to describe how he intended to dig a wide, deep circle around the well, extract the unit intact, and transport the whole shebang, upright, to its new location. It had to remain vertical, he insisted, so the water wouldn’t drain out.
Fortunately, a police officer came around the corner just then, casually walking his beat. Like a ghost, Freddie vanished.
The devilish duo reappeared some months later, this time soliciting funds to kickstart Devious Dickie’s excavation scheme, “Holey Moley.”
“People always bust their butts diggin’ holes for fence posts, mailboxes, flag poles, stuff like that,” he explained. “I’ll save ’em the trouble by providing ready-made holes.”
“How, pray tell?” I naively inquired.
“I’m gonna buy a bunch of Texas oil wells that turned out to be dry holes. Since they ain’t pumpin’ oil, they oughta be cheap. Then I’ll saw ’em into sections and sell ’em as ‘slightly used but not abused’ holes. Pretty slick, eh?”
Suddenly, a siren wailed in the distance. Freddie and Dickie quickly distanced themselves in the opposite direction.
This latest time, they were trying to cash in on the suburban firepit craze.
“The weather’s hot right now, but fall will be here ’fore you know it,” said Freddie. “People will want to gather ’round a firepit in their backyard. We’ll sell ’em a pre-constructed one.”
He then produced a prototype. It was made of wood.
“Are you two clowns completely nuts?!” I shrieked. “A wooden firepit will burn up in minutes!”
“Shows how much you know, Mr. Wise Guy,” sneered Dickie. “Look at the label. It says, ‘Preserved exterior wood, guaranteed to last 30 years.’”
Sigh. Why is there never a cop when you need one?
Sam Venable is an author, comedic entertainer, and humor columnist for the Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. His latest book is “The Joke’s on YOU! (All I Did Was Clean Out My Files).” He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.