Dear Government, 

I recently came into a wonderful investment opportunity from a man I met while watching college football at my local Chili’s affiliate. I had been sitting at the bar enjoying my second rack of Chili’s delicious signature Baby Back Ribs during the broadcast of a stirring game between the Murphy State Hexes and the Donovan University Pumps. 

The spirited game had been back and forth for much of the afternoon and was tied well into the fourth quarter. On a last minute drive, the Hexes were on the verge of scoring a game winning touchdown. The Hexes ran a deep crossing pattern, which I believed to be a brilliantly called play, despite every similar play attempted by the Hexes being shutdown for the entire game by the rousing Pumps defense. 

In any case, the pass was intercepted and returned for a touchdown by the Pumps to win the game. I heard a loud exasperation from another gentleman at the bar who proclaimed, “If you thought that play was a good idea I’ve got some ocean front property in Montana to sell ya!” I thought it a strange and impulsive business decision to sell what I’m sure was lucrative property based solely on the outcome of a football play. However, I had recently been in the market for some oceanfront property ever since the fire engulfed my apartment complex.  

(It is a pesky thing to keep the paper towels a set distance away from the stove. No law had been passed indicating that the proper distance between paper towels and a hot stove is to be measured based on the distance and angle of an obtuse triangle, with an angle no less that 145 degrees. I have take it upon myself to write a letter to my local city council to remedy this, which you have been and CC’ed on)

I approached the impulsive business man and told him of my desire to speak with him regarding his Montana property. He at first laughed me off, a gesture I felt was quite rude and dismissive. I presume he did this because I was a bit covered in barbecue sauce. However, I assured him that I was very much interested and made my intentions to purchase his property abundantly clear. He once again laughed off my inquiry but quickly changed his tune when I informed him that I not only had my checkbook on me right now but I was willing to make a deal expeditiously as my previous residence had recently met its demise.  

His tone changed immediately. He looked around, almost conspiratorially, to ensure that no one was listening to this conversation. Perhaps he was worried that if word got out to this Chili’s that I was ready to deal quickly on land another offer may come in sweeter than his. The man said to me he would offer me the deal of the century, but that I had to accept now and we could not negotiate.  

I was stunned. This is not how business was meant to be done. But ocean front property is obviously some of the most sought after property in the world, so of course the rules would be a little strange. I accepted his stipulations and he made the offer. Only $3,000! I was stunned. 

Of course, I had made up my mind immediately that I would take this deal. But I was worried about one thing, I had not seen a picture of the location. After all, he could be selling me a raggedy and rocky section of beach, a characteristic fairly common with Montana’s ocean front property, according to a magazine article I believe I had once read. 

Now it was my turn to lean in conspiratorially, lest any nosy onlookers eavesdrop on this amazing deal, which I had already accepted in my mind. I asked the man for a photo. The man looked at me surprised, and pulled out his phone. He showed me a beautiful picture of a coast line. It was gorgeous and just as I had imagined it in my head. The property had the look and feel of the Malibu coastline that I had dreamed of as a child but for a fraction of the price and situated in Montana.  

Satisfied, I could not write the check fast enough. I even offered to pick up his bar tab for the day. We shook hands but the man, in a rush, headed out the door. He told me to call him when I got to Montana. He also said to ask for a man named Chance when I got to the Montana airport. I thanked him for his business and took his number. I ordered a celebratory round of drinks for everyone still in the Chilis and basked in the afterglow of a successful real estate deal and fulfillment of a life long dream. 

I write to you from the airport in Montana. Chance has not yet showed up. It’s been days. Luckily I’m making due with a temporary living situation in the airport as all my worldly possessions are with me at the moment. I have tried calling the number offered to me by the man, whose name I regret never asking, both as a matter of politeness and as a matter of necessity, considering I’m not sure where my ocean front property is located. Anyway the phone number I dialed is not in service. 

So I ask you, Government, if you could look into this particular situation for me I would be truly grateful. I’m hoping it’s not a hoax, but as you remember from my last encounter with beach front property in Idaho, I may be prone to hoaxes…   

Sincerely Yours, 
Thumus Rodely


The Higgs Weldon is a humor website with funny stories, articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was started by the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes! 



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