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Show Me The Money

Date: 6-Dec-2004/14:56+3:00

Tags: , ,

Characters: escapee, me, waitress

I was helping an escaped prisoner of some type evade authorities. They followed us onto a golf course.
escapee: "I don't think I can run any further."
me: "That's ok, I have lots of energy and running isn't taking any at all. Get on this golf cart, and I'll push you."
We sped off the golf course and wound up in an area where there were some shops. One was a restaurant.
escapee: "Thanks for the help, but it's just delaying the inevitable. I'm going to get caught. So why don't we just stop here, I think I'd like to use the time by getting myself some pie."
I sat down with him and we both got some pie and coffee. When the authorities were coming, he quickly slipped out the back. They surrounded me at the counter.
me: "You know, this is some really good pie. Creamy, tasty. I've always wondered whether they make it here, or do they order it from a bakery and have it delivered?"
They got bored of listening to me and went away. When time came to pay for the pie, I realized I didn't have my wallet. Knowing that it was a dream at this point, I reached back and did a sifting gesture with my hand that tends to be a gateway to producing familiar objects. I pulled the wallet from the back pocket and handed it to the waitress.
waitress: "All right, you've got five dollars in here. So fifty cents is your change."
me: "I'd kind of like some more pie. And if I can conjure one wallet, I can probably make more money."
Using some of the same sifting, I looked in the wallet...and there were several bills. I drew out a $20 bill, which was somehow sticking to my hand so it was difficult to release. The bill flickered between different denominations, different colors, things that looked like foreign currency. Yet the size stayed fixed at the size of an American dollar.
I never did get the second piece of pie, but at some point the interactions with the waitress went from discussions about currency to sexual involvement.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?