Insert Chassis Albuquerque: How I Got My Millions.

How I Got My Millions.

When I was 17 our town was cut off from the rest of the world for 7 months and 17 days - true story.
As are all my stories.
But I shouldn't have to remind anyone of that.
A giant electric rainbow, of the magnitude never seen before, engulfed the town, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. It blacked out all communication with the outside world (except for TV reality shows, for some reason we were able to receive those), too.
It was an impenetrable force field of electronic energy, very pretty but very dangerous. A lot of people were either killed or injured trying to escape the town by entering the “rainbow”. Sometimes they’d try driving through it at speed in various types of armoured cars, but it never worked and the idea quickly lost its appeal.
I lost a leg but that's unrelated, that happened after the rainbow set in.
Anyhow, it was very technical.
All the government types were unsure what to make of it.
And, of course, we'd been in the dark for months.
Obviously people panicked.
Rumours it was alien technology did the circuit.
My neighbour, Costas Goebel, worked at Langley for the CIA. He set up an operations headquarters. Then he formed an army and took control of the city declaring a State Of Emergency (that's when I lost my leg). Pretty soon people were fed up and formed their own rival factions to take on Goebel’s, declaring their neighbourhoods under State Of Emergency and imposing curfews to purposefully contradict with his curfews.
Very cunning, this way they'd disrupt the status quo, disenfranchising the martial law and order he was trying to establish.
Anyway, how I came to lose my leg: One day, out after curfew, I took a short cut. Life's often like that, after a while you work out all these short cuts. So, I was taking this shortcut on the advice of my father, who’d said: “The shortest distance between any two points is always by dishonesty.
I was trying to steal a very particular copy of The Beatles White Album (The last had fetched millions at auction) which I’d happened across purely by dishonesty – sensing opportunity, I’d retrieved details where to find other similar memorabilia that hadn’t sold from the auction house who’d sold the previous collectors album.
There I was in this collector’s house when all of a sudden 3 armed men appeared (they were robbing the collector’s house, too).
"Who you…?" they demanded.
"No one you have to worry about," I assured them, although I worried they were after the Beatles album, too.
Turned out they weren't.
You know, these looters generally aren't up on musical and cultural matters. They more into white goods – TVs, fridges, laptops and that kind of thing.
They didn't even know who the Beatles were.
"They still around? What kind of music they play?"
"They died, drove their tour bus with all their gear into the rainbow," I said. Because if you're lying, short explanations always work best.
And make it slightly dramatic.
It's a fine balance, though.
“Think I heard about that," one of the hoods said.
"Yeah, last month, wasn't it…? You need anything else?" they asked.
"Just to get going."
"You do," they agreed and stood aside for me.
I took off.
15 minutes later, who do I see? Goebel’s. He'd a small army with him and they weren't looters. In fact, a lot of them had probably seen the Beatles live.
"Goebel’s, what's up, my man…?" I said, careful to project a positive deportment.
"You out after curfew," Goebel’s said.
"Whose…?" I wondered, because, honestly, it was difficult to keep up with the different factions and their respective curfews.
"There's only one curfew - mine. What you got there?" he said.
"Where…?" I said, pretending to look around.
He really was a prick.
Intimidating, and armed.
With a hoard.
But still a prick.
"The Beatles, huh…?" Goebel’s said, flipping the record round and having a look.
"Who…? Oh, that - yeah, you know ‘em…? Died in a plane crash recently." I said.
"I know one of these sold for millions recently. Man, people would pay an arm and a leg for this."
He handed the record back.
"So, what’s it to be - arm or leg…?"