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Reverse Scam: Attempt 2 in Emails to People Who Can't Sell: "That's when my fiancee placed my heart beneath her, squatted above it and defecated..."
Emails to People Who Can't Sell
Once again, I placed a real ad for an engagement ring I’m really selling and a scam artist tried to steal my money through clever email manipulation. Once again, I mock them for it. You can mock them too by emailing them at jennifercole72@gmail.com.
From: Jennifer Cole of jennifercole72@gmail.com
Sent: 02/21/12 8:12AM
To: J Russell Mikkelsen
hello seller please do you still have this item for sale?
From: J Russell Mikkelsen
Sent: 02/22/12 8:50AM
To: Jennifer Cole of jennifercole72@gmail.com
I do. Are you interested?
House O' Crazies
Read part 1 then part 2 first. Yup, 1 and 2 are both before 3.
The Illusionist steps around the table to face us. Arnold slinks behind Tom and me. I turn my face to Tom. I address him audibly, “You know, we’re trained in how to deal with this.” Tom nods. We position ourselves on either side of The Illusionist. Tom is waiting for my signal. The Illusionist’s parents are looking on from the doorway. I wait. Tom is ready. The parents are watching.
The Illusionist tells us that he doesn’t hurt people, only objects because objects have no value but people do. Silence responds. The Illusionist sits, trying to impress us with his poise.
Arnold, courage returned, sits down at the head of the table, facing The Illusionist. They begin a long conversation about philosophy and probably farts. The dad soon joins them and takes command. Seeing that The Illusionist is still and their conversation is gibberish, Tom and I leave to discuss the situation with the nurse.
In the office, I give a full summary to the nurse. She admits that she has no idea what to do. I tell her that, for the time being, things seem to be okay. We can put one person on guard at the door and direct any other patients away. This leaves us with two co-workers to handle the rest of the wing, but it’s getting late and most patients have gone to bed. It’s the best we can ask for right now. The nurse agrees. Tom volunteers to stand guard.
Stories From My Life
I stare at my shoes, drink my 7-up and space out. It takes a moment to recognize what I’ve experienced first hand too many times before: they’re being mugged.
I take off my backpack and place my soda on the ground, careful not to spill. Gregg is walking towards me, leaving our friends behind. “Don’t go over there.”
As I run, I assess the situation. Jacob has his wallet out and shows one boy that it is empty of cash. Jacob learned never to carry more than a dollar on him after we were robbed together our freshman year. Sam has his hands in the air like a movie character at gun point. The second boy is searching through Sam’s sports bag that is still hanging across his belly. That is where I head.
I squeeze in, in front of Sam. They are startled. “This ain’t your business. You gotta leave.”
I am 17. My heart is still. Ignorance is bliss. “These are my friends. I’m not going anywhere.”