Drenched in Tears and Rolling in Dough

This email was in my inbox this morning.  I thought it was too good not to pass along, if only for its audacity and tragic, literary overtones.

I’ve highlighted one word that leaped out at me in particular because of its jarring juxtaposition with the overall humanitarian tone of the plea.

The sender doesn’t disclose the country of origin so where, in your opinion, do you think it came from? 


I am drenched with tears while writing this short message to you. It was
heartbreaking news to me few  days ago when my doctor notified me on
complications on my health condition which he officially made known to me. He
further stressed that the complication I had in my human mechanism as a result
of a secondary liver cancer which have destroyed all the organs in my body
system.  According to him, he said that this complication will lead to my
imminent death since no medication can alleviate the high system of deformation
I am encountering at this time in my system.

In the view of the above, I am in quest to find a trustworthy and upright
individual whom I will entrust the sum of $4.8 million USD and this  has led me
to you. The said fund was acquired by me as  an inheritance from my adopted
father who died as a result of political crisis which erupted among his most
political associate and business clique.

I will make available to you all information and officially authorize document
which will endorse your claim as the beneficiary to the fund in question in the
finance house where the fund was lodged by my adopted father.  I have mapped out the modalities on how the fund will be apportioned. 35% of the principal amount of the money will be dished out to you while 65% will be allotted to any charitable or orphanage home of your preference.

My motive to dispense the funds to a charity and orphanage home is that I grew
up as an orphan and do not have any heirs hitherto.

Upon your acceptance to this proposal kindly get back to me.

Best Regards
Cecilia Frazier


Old Tricks, Even Older Dogs

It’s Sunday and I’d been at the grandkids’ house since early (very) Saturday morning and got home around 6:30 this evening.    

It was hot and humid today so the kids and I went swimming in their pool.  Granddaughter “S.”, age seven and three-quarters, had a pair of swim fins, a mask and a snorkle that she’d glommed onto at the beginning of the swim.  Grandson “C.”, age nine, was clearly coveting these articles and managed to finagle one swim fin away from his younger sister and was pleading his case for her to give him a turn at the mask. 

“S.” obviously wasn’t in a sharing mood.  There were some words, and Memaw had to intone that if they weren’t going to take turns, then Memaw was going to confiscate the offending articles. 

With a great show of humility, little “S.” took off the fins and the mask and brought them out of the pool, laying them somewhat reverently at my feet.  She sighed (a bit too dramatically) and said that, yes, if she and “C.” were going to fight over them, then perhaps the best thing was for no one to be using them.

Uh-huh.  Memaw wasn’t born yesterday.  

She could spot this manipulation coming a mile away. 

I think this trick was old when Eddie Haskell tried it on the Beaver’s mother.

I suppressed a laugh and informed “S.” that her little ruse wasn’t going to work. 

She would have to share with her brother. 

Her saintly demeanor immediately deflated and she smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, letting out a little wail.

“Ohhh….I always make it worse!” 

Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill anytime.