Last Deposit

Blood. The tap water turned pink. So much for using a knife on that order of estate coins from eBay. It didn’t help that the cat jumped up on the table when I was trying to cut the tape, either. The person who packaged it was a madman, using all that tape on it. The entire box was wrapped in it. Of course, spending $49.95 on a couple Kennedy half-dollars was pretty mad, too. I did not throw that kind of money around. I already regretted the purchase, but I heard silver was going up, so I thought it might be a good investment. Holy cow, that tap water stung. Anyway, two band-aids later and I was back at it, looking for something else to cut the tape with.

My kitchen was a wreck. My whole life was a wreck. I wished I could pay it all off and just leave. It wouldn’t take that much. Twenty thousand would pay off everything, the car, the bills, the student loans, the back rent from three years ago….

My job was fruitless, and the bills just kept coming. Not only that, but the lockdowns killed every hope and desire I had. Was that the purpose of the lockdowns? To kill hope? What hope was left after almost a year of being unable to move in any direction? I poked a fork into the tape. It didn’t work too well, so I went back to using the knife. I thought a sawzall would be better for this much tape. I couldn’t even tear the box apart, there was so much tape on it.

Pop!

Pop!

RIP!

I didn’t need to spend money on this. I dug through a layer of crumpled news paper. I didn’t have that much money to begin with. I kept trying to convince myself that a couple silver Kennedy halves would be worth it. I tossed the crumpled paper in the garbage. Still, I kept regretting the purchase. It put me in a bad mood.

Half way to the bottom of the box, I found the bubble wrapped order. I put it aside, emptied the rest of the box, considered saving the box, then decided there was too much madman tape on it, so I broke it down for the recycle bin. In the process of breaking the box down, my coin package fell to the floor. When I reached for it, I hit my head on the table.

Oh, that hurt. That really hurt. Now, I’m practically crying because I hit my head really hard, my finger is throbbing, my kitchen is a wreck, I’m tired, I have bills to pay, my job sucks, and whatever is inside that bubble wrap is probably not even real. Also, I’m out of coffee.

So there I was, sitting at the kitchen table, tearing through the bubble wrap, when the cat decided to jump on my lap and miss-- he ended up clawing my thigh. CAT! CAAAAATTTTT!!! He took off like a lunatic when I yelled. I sat there, doubled over, either groaning or whining, waiting for the pain to subside, wondering if we all float down here or if the world only has me in a vise grip. I’m sure my leg was bleeding, too. I finally got the bubble wrap off, and—

This is not what I ordered. This is NOT what I ordered.

It’s not a plastic coin case for the Kennedy half dollars. It’s a little black freeking notebook with a folded piece of paper sticking out of it. What in the loving hell is this shit? I got screwed again. Again! No surprise there! Story of my life!

I tossed that scam package on the kitchen table, then hobbled to the bathroom to clean the disaster on my leg, which welted more than it bled. I pulled my jeans off one leg, doused the scratches with peroxide, set the bottle on the sink, and missed the ledge while I was reaching for a towel. The bottle tipped, and peroxide started bubbling all over the carpet. Lord help me. What’s next? So there I was, one leg in my jeans, one leg out of my jeans, kneeling on the floor, blotting peroxide with a towel. As I stood up to fix my jeans, I tripped over the waste bin and landed flat on my face. While I was lying on the floor trying to decide if I was dead or still breathing, the cat dropped one of his stuffed mice next to my nose. I let out a big sigh, petted his head, threw his mouse, hoisted myself up, fixed my jeans, slugged to the kitchen, sat down with no coffee, and let out a huge, defeated breath towards the little black book on the table, which was supposed to be a couple of silver Kennedy Half Dollars, and wasn’t. I stared at it and almost chucked it into the garbage can, but then I decided to find out how much of a heel I really was.

I was expecting something like “HA! HA! HA! YOU SUCK!” to be written in all caps with a black sharpie pen on that piece of paper. Obviously, the whole world thinks my existence should suck. I unfolded the paper:

“I am truly sorry for shorting you on the Kennedy half-dollars….”

See? I got screwed.

“…My son died in 2014 and they were part of his collection. I realized only after the listing ended, that I listed the quantity wrong! My attorney is going to have a job sorting that mess out, I’m afraid. I did want to send you his little black book, in an effort to make amends with you. When you asked me about investment coins, I thought you might appreciate it. As I mentioned in our eBay messages, I am moving to a nursing home with hospice care. I have no need for the information he kept here. I looked into a few of the addresses, but this is well beyond my interest. I put a star next to the biggest one. If you wish to keep his book, and not return it, you will find he made a reasonable investment. I am passing it on to you.”

How many different ways did “red flag scam, scam, scam, SCAM” run through my head right then? Was this even worth it? Was this real? Was this a joke? Do I ask for my money back? Do I contact eBay? PayPal? The FBI? The money I spent on this scam would be better used on bills! I have a cat to feed!

I flipped through the pages of the little black just-another-scam-in-my-life book. There were a number of entries in it. All addresses--several pages of address, with names under each address, and some other writing below each name. But, these are interesting addresses in this book. I could at least Google the addresses before I returned the book, right? I found the starred entry, sat down at my PC, typed in the address, and came to a fairly reasonable looking page with a login prompt at the top….

I logged in.

I don’t remember the cat jumping onto my lap, only that I was petting his head while he was curled up and purring. I stared gape-jawed at the computer screen.

20,000 Bitcoins.

Last deposit: April 2011.