Tricky Business by Dave Barry Page B

forget the refrigerator carton, OK? There is no refrigerator carton. I made the fucking refrigerator carton up.”
    â€œBut they are in Hawaii?” said Jock.
    â€œYes,” said Ted, “but they don’t live there.”
    â€œHow do you know that?” said Johnny. “They might live there.”
    â€œHe could be right,” said Wally, handing the joint to Ted. “Some of them could live in Hawaii. I mean, just randomly.”
    â€œShit,” said Ted, “I’m trying to argue for your side, and now you’re agreeing with them. ”
    â€œI’m not agreeing about the refrigerator carton,” said Wally. “I’m just agreeing about living in Hawaii, and I’m only partly agreeing on that.”
    â€œWait a minute,” said Jock. “You just said there was no refrigerator carton.”
    â€œJesus,” said Wally.
    â€œSo what happened?” said Ted, handing the joint forward to Jock.
    â€œWhat happened when?” said Wally.
    â€œWhat happened when you called the number?” said Ted.
    â€œWhat number?” said Jock.
    â€œThe number on the infomercial,” said Ted.
    â€œWhat infomercial?” said Jock.
    â€œThe one we’re talking about, you moron,” said Ted.
    â€œWe’re talking about an infomercial?” said Jock. He turned to Johnny: “Did you know that?”
    â€œYeah,” said Johnny. “But they’re wrong about Hawaii.”
    â€œJesus,” said Wally.
    â€œThis one’s done,” said Jock, popping the roach into his mouth.
    â€œSo what did happen?” said Ted.
    â€œOK,” said Wally. “So I call the number, and this woman wants my credit-card number, so she can charge me fifty-nine ninety-five for the tapes. So I’m like, I don’t have any credit left on my credit card. So she’s like, well, you can send a check or money order for fifty-nine ninety-five. So I’m like, listen, I don’t have fifty-nine ninety-five, which is why I need to get into real estate in the first place, so how about you let me have the tapes for no money down, and I pay you the money when I get rich from real estate? And she’s like, no, we can’t do that. And I’m like, why not? Doesn’t the system work? I mean, the infomercial guy says it’s foolproof, right? And she’s like, well, I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir. And I’m like, OK, can I talk to somebody who does know something about it? And she’s like, well, you can talk to my supervisor. And I’m like, OK, will your supervisor be able to send me the tapes? And she’s like, I wouldn’t think so, sir, if you don’t have the fifty-nine ninety-five. So I’m like, well then, can you explain to me how am I supposed to buy an entire fucking house with no money if you won’t even let me have some fucking tapes ? And she’s like, sir, there is no call for that kind of language, and she hangs up.”
    â€œSounds like you’re on your way to financial independence,” said Ted.
    â€œNo question,” said Wally. “I’ve taken that critical first step. Do we have another joint?”
    â€œRight here,” said Jock, lighting it, taking a hit.
    The car was silent, except for Muddy Waters.
    Got my mojo workin’, but it just won’t work on you.
    â€œI bet hardly any customers show up tonight,” said Ted, looking out at the rain.
    â€œWe still gotta play,” said Wally.
    â€œEasy night for the dealers and waitresses, though,” said Ted.
    â€œYou guys seen that new cocktail waitress?” said Johnny.
    â€œWhich one?” said Jock, exhaling.
    â€œWhatshername. With the long hair and the legs,” said Johnny.
    â€œOh yeah,” said Jock, handing the joint to Johnny. “What’s her name?”
    â€œFay,” said Wally.
    â€œHow do you know her name?” said Ted.
    â€œI talked to