Pokécon
[size=-20]The Con is On[/size]
[size=-20]The Con is On[/size]
Chapter Select:
Prologue:
“We will now escort you to the Pokémon Deposit room to collect your Pokémon. You will then be shown off the premises.”
John Green (more commonly known as Johnny Green) was being released from prison. He was a grifter, a con artist. Never caught, but serving a prison sentence for a totally unrelated crime. 2 years in prison is never nice, but he had a strong mind. For the first time in 2 years he would see his Pokémon that always assisted him in his scores. He wondered whether or not they would be happy to see him, or if they would detest every bone in his body. What should he do when he got out? Should he quit playing the con?
~~~~~
A man walked into a dull pub with a dog. He was wearing shaggy, dirty clothes, and an old cap. He walked up to the bar and sat on a stool. He ordered a drink and asked the sar tender, “Hey, can you look after my Eevee for a second while I go to the toilet?”
“Sure”.
A woman later walked into the bar while the man seemingly ‘went to the toilet’. “Is this your Eevee?” she asked.
“Uh, no. It belongs to a man who asked me to look after it while he went to the toilet.”
“Hmm, that’s a shame”, she replied. “It’s just that that Eevee is in fine condition, and I would pay £1000 for it.”
“£1000?” said the bar tender, intrigued and wishing he had said it was his.
“I’m a breeder you see, and that Pokémon is a fine specimen indeed. In case you change your mind…” she said as she slipped him her Pokégear number.
As the ‘breeder’ left, the man emerged through the doors that lead to the toilet. She gave him a discreet nod that to an untrained eye would look like she was glancing at the pictures on the wall, but to him gave him the signal that he was on.
As the man sat down, he mentioned the tough economic times.
“It’s really hard, you know? First I lost my job, then my house, and now Eevee is all I’ve got. At the moment I’m begging off the streets just for food. I only came in here because someone kind gave me a £10 note.”
“Well, if you are struggling with money, I can help”
“Really?”
“I’ll take that dog off your hands for you for £100”
“Sorry, but he’s all I’ve got, I could only possibly sell him for £200, but even then, he’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember” replied the ‘beggar’ as he stroked the Eevee lovingly.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I can see that you love it a great deal, so I’ll go to £150 tops”
“£175?”
“Deal”, said the bar tender as he thought to himself excitedly that he was going to make an £825 profit when he called the breeder. He forked over the money in cash to the scruffy man, giving him time to say his goodbye.
As the man walked out of the bar, he smiled to himself that he just got all that money from the pure greed of the bar tender, hoping to get a bit of cash.
After ringing what he thought was the breeder (which was actually a Pokémon center Video Phone) for hours with no luck. He then noticed something.
On the Eevee was a note saying:
Please return Eevee to:
Haircut Brothers,
42 Goldenrod City Tunnel,
Goldenrod,
Johto.
(P.S. We stole it from them, and be kind to it)
He thought to himself:
“@*%!&$€£”
The man and woman who received the money in a matter of 5 minutes were Lilly Carter and Ricky “Faker” Featherstone.
~~~~~
“So, we know that when the oil company releases this report, the share prices rocket?” enquired the greedy property developer.
“Of course”, replied Eddie Arlington, an American aged 73, also a con man, taking an unsuspecting mark’s money. “We expect the shares to riple in value. All we need to do is put some money in and we will make a huge return when we sell them again. If we are to make any money in this I suggest that we should aim to put in maybe…”
“£100 000?” butted in the mark.
“Yes, that should be sufficient enough. We’ll then make £200 000 each when they launch the report.”
“Thank you for this opportunity Albert.”
“My pleasure”
~~~~~
Somewhere in the back streets of a city, Jack Flare was trying to conceal the fact he was cheating at a Poker game with some foreign chefs.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go all in”, he said as he placed a £20 pound note on the table. “Royal Flush.”
They smelled a rat, found out he was cheating and threatened him out with a huge knife.
Need I say more?
This has been inspired by the TV programme ‘Hustle’.
Enjoy!
(nothing to do with your username BTW)