CON ARTIST
Michael A. Kechula
Frank was whale watching off the coast of Santa Buffoona when he heard a whale call, “Hey, Mister, what’s your name?”
“Frank,” he said, wondering if he were hallucinating.
“Well, Frank, could you do me a big favor?”
“Depends on what it is,” he said, wondering if the whale was gonna hit him up for a few bucks.
“It’s not complicated. I’m the King of the Whales. I’m facing open rebellion. Some of my subjects are fed up with their diets. Not so long ago a tour boat was in this area, and it was full of kids eating something they called pepperoni pizza. A few pieces of it fell overboard. A few of my subjects were in the area and tasted the stuff floating on the water. Now they’re hooked. Seems they particularly liked the yellow stuff on top. It was kind of stringy. Do you know what that stuff’s called?”
“Mozzarella cheese,” Frank said.
“They also liked the little round red thingees on top of the mozzarella. What’s that called?”
“Pepperoni.”
“I’d be eternally grateful to you, Frank, if you could get a few pepperoni pizzas and put them in the water. I’ll add some poison. That would get rid my rebellious subjects before they spread the word about pizza and infect more in my empire with their weird dietary ideas.”
“How many pizzas do you think you need?”
“I figure seven-hundred extra-large ones would do the trick. The guys who’ll eat this have gigantic appetites.”
“Do you have any money?” Frank asked. “Extra large pizzas are pretty expensive, especially when they’re covered with pepperoni.”
“Where the hell would whales get money?” asked the King.
“I thought maybe if pizza fell overboard from passing boats, maybe a purse or two, or a few wallets might have also have dropped into the drink at one time or another.”
“No such luck. Look, my credit’s good. I am, after tall, the King of the Whales. I got connections. I could, in exchange for your generosity, fix it with great white sharks so that they’ll never attack you in case you ever fall overboard into shark infested waters. Or I could made an arrangement with all the alligators so you never get your hands bitten off, in case you ever want to pet one when you are in Florida.”
“I appreciate your offer,” said Frank. But you are talking about an expenditure on my part of about $14,000, unless you got some Pizza Hut discount coupons on hand.”
“What are coupons?”
Harry explained.
“Nope, we don’t have any of those. Tell you what I’ll do. I have a beautiful daughter. I’ve put together quite a dowry for her. Perhaps you’d be interested in marrying her.”
“How much is the dowry?”
“Oh, it’s quite rich. Two thousand tons of briny kelp. Five thousand tons of delicious seaweed.”
Harry did some quick calculations, figuring he could sell the kelp and seaweed to sushi restaurants for mega-bucks. That’d cover the cost of using his credit card to buy 700 pepperoni pizzas, ten-thousand times over.
“It’s a deal,” Harry said. “I’ll run and get the pizzas. Give me a few hours. It’s gonna take a while for them to make 700 extra-large pepperoni pizzas.”
“Okay,” said the King. “Meanwhile, I’ll get my daughter and her dowry ready for you. We can conduct the ceremony when you return. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Harry said, trying to calculate how much he’d profit from selling a female whale to Japanese fishermen. “When I come back with the pizzas in a boat, how will I find you so I know where to drop them?”
“I’ll set off flares,” said the whale King.
Ten hours later, Harry arrived with 700 pepperoni pizzas. The King heard the boat’s engines, came to the surface, and set off several flares.
After Harry dropped all the pizzas overboard, his future bride came to the surface along with her daddy, the King.
“Oh, he’s cute, Daddy,” she said. “He looks good enough to eat.”
“Indulge yourself, my sweetie-pie,” said the King.
Harry was gone in one gulp.
The King dried the 700 pizzas, and sold them to hungry tourists who came in boats to watch whales frolic in the Pacific. He made so much money, he bought the island of Tahiti, where he lived happily ever after with his subjects---none of which had ever heard of pepperoni pizza, much less ever tasted it.
- - -
BIO: Michael A. Kechula's flash fiction has published by 126 magazines and 35 anthologies in 6 countries. He's authored two collections of flash fiction tales: "A Full Deck of Zombies - 61 Speculative Fiction Tales" and "The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales."
Michael A. Kechula
Frank was whale watching off the coast of Santa Buffoona when he heard a whale call, “Hey, Mister, what’s your name?”
“Frank,” he said, wondering if he were hallucinating.
“Well, Frank, could you do me a big favor?”
“Depends on what it is,” he said, wondering if the whale was gonna hit him up for a few bucks.
“It’s not complicated. I’m the King of the Whales. I’m facing open rebellion. Some of my subjects are fed up with their diets. Not so long ago a tour boat was in this area, and it was full of kids eating something they called pepperoni pizza. A few pieces of it fell overboard. A few of my subjects were in the area and tasted the stuff floating on the water. Now they’re hooked. Seems they particularly liked the yellow stuff on top. It was kind of stringy. Do you know what that stuff’s called?”
“Mozzarella cheese,” Frank said.
“They also liked the little round red thingees on top of the mozzarella. What’s that called?”
“Pepperoni.”
“I’d be eternally grateful to you, Frank, if you could get a few pepperoni pizzas and put them in the water. I’ll add some poison. That would get rid my rebellious subjects before they spread the word about pizza and infect more in my empire with their weird dietary ideas.”
“How many pizzas do you think you need?”
“I figure seven-hundred extra-large ones would do the trick. The guys who’ll eat this have gigantic appetites.”
“Do you have any money?” Frank asked. “Extra large pizzas are pretty expensive, especially when they’re covered with pepperoni.”
“Where the hell would whales get money?” asked the King.
“I thought maybe if pizza fell overboard from passing boats, maybe a purse or two, or a few wallets might have also have dropped into the drink at one time or another.”
“No such luck. Look, my credit’s good. I am, after tall, the King of the Whales. I got connections. I could, in exchange for your generosity, fix it with great white sharks so that they’ll never attack you in case you ever fall overboard into shark infested waters. Or I could made an arrangement with all the alligators so you never get your hands bitten off, in case you ever want to pet one when you are in Florida.”
“I appreciate your offer,” said Frank. But you are talking about an expenditure on my part of about $14,000, unless you got some Pizza Hut discount coupons on hand.”
“What are coupons?”
Harry explained.
“Nope, we don’t have any of those. Tell you what I’ll do. I have a beautiful daughter. I’ve put together quite a dowry for her. Perhaps you’d be interested in marrying her.”
“How much is the dowry?”
“Oh, it’s quite rich. Two thousand tons of briny kelp. Five thousand tons of delicious seaweed.”
Harry did some quick calculations, figuring he could sell the kelp and seaweed to sushi restaurants for mega-bucks. That’d cover the cost of using his credit card to buy 700 pepperoni pizzas, ten-thousand times over.
“It’s a deal,” Harry said. “I’ll run and get the pizzas. Give me a few hours. It’s gonna take a while for them to make 700 extra-large pepperoni pizzas.”
“Okay,” said the King. “Meanwhile, I’ll get my daughter and her dowry ready for you. We can conduct the ceremony when you return. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Harry said, trying to calculate how much he’d profit from selling a female whale to Japanese fishermen. “When I come back with the pizzas in a boat, how will I find you so I know where to drop them?”
“I’ll set off flares,” said the whale King.
Ten hours later, Harry arrived with 700 pepperoni pizzas. The King heard the boat’s engines, came to the surface, and set off several flares.
After Harry dropped all the pizzas overboard, his future bride came to the surface along with her daddy, the King.
“Oh, he’s cute, Daddy,” she said. “He looks good enough to eat.”
“Indulge yourself, my sweetie-pie,” said the King.
Harry was gone in one gulp.
The King dried the 700 pizzas, and sold them to hungry tourists who came in boats to watch whales frolic in the Pacific. He made so much money, he bought the island of Tahiti, where he lived happily ever after with his subjects---none of which had ever heard of pepperoni pizza, much less ever tasted it.
- - -
BIO: Michael A. Kechula's flash fiction has published by 126 magazines and 35 anthologies in 6 countries. He's authored two collections of flash fiction tales: "A Full Deck of Zombies - 61 Speculative Fiction Tales" and "The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales."
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