Scam

[Steven Hunley]

Scam

by

Steven Hunley

“Sometimes life is just sink or swim. It's all about the risks you're willing to take." SH

http://youtu.be/5KkWGy7W3_o

I was nervous. I hadn’t seen these dudes in twenty years. Old friends, old partners, old backers.

For the scam to work we needed each other as much as Anthony needed Cleopatra. They needed my talent and expertise. I needed their money. Simple. It was time to play Let’s Make a Deal.

The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. Ron liked his privacy. Especially back during the days when he was growing in the canyon behind. Now he hadn’t smoked in over five years.

Kenny had kids now and grandkids as well. We all did. All in all, we were a desperate bunch of old geezers. Especially me. No retirement, no woman, no prospects of either one. I had only one thing.

Nothing to lose.

So last week I called them up. It was a surprise to them both. What I didn’t know was that they were both as desperate as I was. Ron had taken up gambling since I left town and was heavy in debt. Kenny had a woman on the side who was costing him plenty. In addition, his daughter was in college. We all needed the bucks.

“I got a business proposition,” I said, and that was all. Out of habit we never talked on the phone. The meeting was scheduled.

Greetings and handshakes and “good fellows well met” all around. We went back to the deck over-looking the canyon and Ron, ever the good host, passed out the beer.

“Damn, you’ve got greyer!” was echoed like we were in some kind of canyon.

“Well, what’s up Smittie?” Ron questioned.

“I was thinking of resurrecting the scam.”

Four eyebrows were lifted.

“You’re kidding,” said Kenny. “After 911, the security is bound to be tighter!”

“Not the way I got it figured.”

Each gave the other a look.

“How long will it take and how much do you need?” asked Ron.

“I need twenty thou for the score, thirty days for the trip,” I said back.

Ron and Kenny looked again at each other and nodded.

“And what do we get out of it?” said Kenny.

“Same as the old days. Double your money and a gram of the best for personal.”

“And if you get busted?”

“Same as the old days, nothin’.”

“The old double or nothin’,” they sang like a chorus, “Same as the old days.”

Ron thought of his bookie and Kenny of the wants of his lover and a college tuition. I thought of myself. What a trio of lovely grandpas we made.

“I’m in,” said Kenny.

“Me too,” quoth Ron.

Bear bottles knocked together in triple unison. Various smokes with exotic names were consumed in flames provided by various Calibri and Braun lighters clicking their heads off, even Ron’s.

And like a phoenix, my scam arose from the ashes.

I was in business again.

[breathtest]

I enjoyed the fact that they are all grandfathers. And the fact that you do not reveal what the scam is. a good comic piece where the reader expects something more but the writer will only tease.

'And like a phoenix, my scam arose from the ashes.'

very good line.

[Steven Hunley]

An old-timer explained to me once there were only two kinds of smugglers. Those that had taken their fall and those that have yet to take their fall.
Hence:




The Bust

And you take your time
And you do your crime
Well you made your bed
I made mine.” Lil’ Wayne

Two days later two loud knocks were heard on Dude's door. He answered, and not one or two but seven men pushed past him in a hurry, all total strangers. The only one that talked to him directly was busy reciting something. He'd heard this piece before on television. It was the Miranda Act. It started with, "You have the right to remain silent," and went on from there. He suspected he might be in trouble.

Two men were F.B.I. Two worked narcotics. Two were sheriffs and the other one was there, as he explained later “just for fun.” From the other room he heard one of them, the one that was there just for fun, shout, "Bingo!"

He suspected he was in worse trouble.

When they put him in the back of the car he had a sneaking suspicion his world was about to change in a big way. For once in his life he was right.

Dude was mad, sad, and disappointed. All this trouble and they never even took out their big bad guns.

Dude got sent up.

The courtroom, when they got to the courtroom, was like every other courtroom. That is to say; dull. So I’ll waste no words to describe it. They led Dude in wearing his county blue jumpsuit and on his wrists were gun-metal blue bracelets, a matching pair, attached to each other so he couldn’t lose them, and you had to notice that they perfectly matched his eyes. They put them on him not for fashion however, but to prevent him leaving the proceedings if things got too dull, or if he decided to bolt which is much the same thing.

The judge was a woman judge so I’ll say nothing about that other than Dude was lucky and got on with women but we already know that. She found him guilty, of that she had not the slightest doubt. So that just left the sentencing.

“I find you guilty as sin,” she announced from on high, “and remand you, Robert Louis,” that was his real name, judges are into using real names, “to the custody of the California State Department of Corrections for…” here she hesitated a moment, “say, are you related to the late Steven Louis the famous anthropologist?”

“Yes, Your Honor, he was my dad.”

“You mean?”

Dude saw what was coming. He’d heard this sh*t as far as back as high school.

“That you’re Robert Louis, Steven’s son?”

They both started laughing, both he and the judge. He, because it seemed so stupid and sophomoric. She, because she thought she was the cleverest woman to put on a black dress and sit up high on a bench. Two lawyers started laughing, and three from the crowd started chuckling. The ones that didn’t get it were probably an ill-read lot who flunked high school English.

“If it please, Your Honor,” Dude said laughing, “Give me a break.”

“I will,” she continued, then wiping a tear of laughter from her eye said, “nine months.”

That was it.

BAP BAP went her gavel. Like handing out candy. Dirty stinking legal laughter is what it was. That was all the court reporter wrote and thought it was over.

No man was ever more sensitive to his environment than Dude. The courtroom was so damned dramatic. I mean, there were the actors, the judge, the lawyers and he. On the other side of the balustrade was the audience, now silently waiting for the proper lines to be delivered. The recorder was busy writing down the script as the actors spoke. He was saturated with the theatrical atmosphere in which he found himself.

Dude, having a flair for the dramatic, decided to do a re-write. And why not? He had nothing to lose.

As the bailiff led him away he turned to the judge and asked her,

"Your honor, do you see my face?"

That got her attention.

The court recorder started recording again, even though she had stopped.

"Yes, Mr. Louis, I see your face."

"Good. When you hang a man, you better look at him."

Dude always liked Clint Eastwood and had seen Hang 'Em High, at least three times. That's where he got the line. The spaghetti western fans in the audience began clapping. When they marched him out of the courtroom Dude Eastwood was still smiling.

The judge wasn't. I guess no one ever clapped for her. She should have been used to it by now.

As the theme song to “Hang ‘Em High” by Dominic Frontiere slips from our ears we must keep in mind that Dude is now a convicted criminal and is ready to do his “just desserts” whatever the hell they are.

[David Strugnell]

911
April – Pope Anastasius III succeeds Pope Sergius III as the 120th pope.

[Buh4Bee]

I think your writing is more clear when you are not writing about a sexy female. The character of Dude knows you better than you know him. It is evident at how easy he is to create.