in which i abscond with loot
Earlier this evening I ascended the stairs to the third floor of Hopson, an old stone faculty building with a funktronic metal fountain in front. I was there to slip an essay on torture under a professor's door. On a small, dark wooden table in the hallway was three dollars cash, American, and a message written in chalk, "TAKE IF YOU DARE." Some sociologist's wager, I figured: leave money somewhere vacant but public and a person who encounters it won't take it because of some paranoid suspicion of a moral overseer. Yeah, you've all seen Clerks.
Anyway, I dared. If you know whose money it was, thank them for me (though I did so myself with the chalk) and tell them to next time not wager against a scavenging species, and to nix the encouraging message. And no, they can't have it back.
Anyway, I dared. If you know whose money it was, thank them for me (though I did so myself with the chalk) and tell them to next time not wager against a scavenging species, and to nix the encouraging message. And no, they can't have it back.