The Date

A surprise presence at a birthday party wants a date and gets it.

“Happy Burp Day!”

“Uh. Do I know you?”

“I crushed your party. Could smell the booze a mile away.”

“You’re drunk. You were drinking before you got here. Let me call you a cab.”

“Name’s not Cab. Izt’s Marvin Poole. You’re nice. How about a date? I’m loaded.”

“Yes, you are. Oh, put your wallet back in your pocket. My, my. You are flush with cash. Where did you get it?”

“Lass party I went to. Won the lottery, didn’t I? Scuse me. You’re not married are you? I don’t date married women. Don’t have to. They want to come across without all that foo-fer-aw. Like keeping things quiet.”

“Won the lottery?”

“Zactly. Had stacks of money just laying there in the vault. Bank party. New opening. No booze. Shame on them. I was their new hire security guard. I saw I needed to protect their money. Somebody might steal it.

Took an early withdrawal of my salary. Had to buy my own liquid delight. Celebrated with my own party after. Yes, I did. Want to party with me? Working on next year's salary withdrawal. Bought a new car. Thanks bank.”

“Uh. Looks like you aren’t the only uninvited guest. Some of your fans followed you here. Hello officers.”

“How’d you track him here?”

“The bank told us to follow the money, miss. The cash on display was fake, easy to trace. They bought it on the cheap from a somewhat shady source. The bank sent out the word to local businesses when they noticed it was gone. He went on a fast shopping spree. Helped us catch him.”

“Well, that is a sobering thought, friend, guess you’ve got a date after all, just won't be with me.”