The Long Con

I've got a box of money. Doesn't do it justice to call it a box, more like a shipping container. Full of money. I know a lot of it's hundreds, but if it were ones it'd still set anyone up for life. And their kids.

There's just one little snag: the money was supposed to be destroyed. They take money out of circulation, sometimes because it's worn, sometimes just as part of a large-cap market initiative. In this case, this money was pulled because it didn't have certain security features new money has. Sill perfectly good legal tender, just that Treasury didn't want it around.

So they dyed it. Dyed it pitch black. Company that sold them the dye told them it was permanent, more fool-proof than shredding and more environmentally friendly than burning (do you know how much plastic a greenback contains? It's not like Australia, but still you wouldn't want to smell it burning).

They soak it in dye, they ship it to a dump in Kentucky. Once it's loaded, nobody knows anything about it. It's paper, it's black, dump it. That's all anybody knows. A friend of mine, he works... you know what it's better you don't know where he works, but he puts it together. We get another friend of mine calling other chemical companies, turns out they're not so confident that this dye won't come out. Turns out there's a chemical, a special chemical that can take it out, melt it off like sand in a river.

Now me, I've been seen at the dump, in Kentucky, using a backhoe to load the paper so supposedly I can recycle it, grind it up for mulch at my sugarbeet farm. If I turn up with all these greenbacks, the story won't hold. You though. Nobody knows you. You've got nothing to do with any of this. Nobody in this bar knows me, nobody is gonna notice us talking, and this'll be the last time we meet in person.

That is, if you're interested in a box car full of money.