Once there was a much younger and much more naive little il duce, much never when it came to finances and that proved to be a saving grace. When il duce was in his salad days he worked as a library assistant at a certain college. There he met a certain suave Lothario named Riccardo Lloyd D’Orsainville, Riccardo was more than bit of a fop, dressed in three piece British cut suits with matching ties and pocket squares and was groomed to the nines. All of which intrigued the young il duce as Riccardo was paid even less than himself and il duce was having a hard time keeping basic clothes on his back and butter on his bread with the pittance the college was paying.
Mr. D'Orsainvelle asked il duce out and il duce bought the e-ticket, interest from a looker and a good meal are not to be turned down. Plus them as now, il duce liked to hear peoples stories, I'd been a writing major after all! And oh what stories Mr. D'orsainvlllie told.
He was renting a 12 room house he was thinking of buying, He had planted a formal rose garden thereand presented pictures of prize specimens. He had just qualified for a $300,000 mortgage. All of which intrigued il duce as this was in the time of the aftermath of the S&L crisis and no one was lending money or giving mortgages to anyone. Il duce knew because he was trying to acquire a $100,000 mortgage to buy a pokey little condo for himself and even with that amount in the bank to back the loan up the mortgagees were nervous. Riccardo's life seemed to good to be true and in fact it was.
Riccardo wasn't nearly as bright as his rosy economic painting., Spinning property and finance tales to a librarian with access to computer systems never turns out well for thinly fabricated material . I was immediately able to verify the address of Mr/ D'orsainvellie's 12 room mansion, a rooming house with 8 mail boxes, replete with pick up truck on cinder blocks in the front yard. I located the prize roses he had photographed in the nearby city park.
When asked about all the "irregularities" in his story Riccardo never veered from his script, Never ever ever, no matter what. Not when he moved downtown to a new luxury high rise address(verified false) not when he quit his job to concentrate on his investments (he got fired) not when he bought a weekend vacation home in San Francisco after I spent my vacation there(we lived a 7 hour flight a way in Boston) and most odd of all not when he showed up with an orange oil based painted on tan (think Trump) from his own trip to San Francisco when he bought said property, As an African-american co-worker who knew him, and saw him, told me "We're black, we don't tan that way and especially don't turn that color"
Boston's a small town. Through the years Riccardo popped up, always with a new story, always easily disprovable and always in complete denial as to the gaping holes in his stories. It proved entertaining fodder while sipping cocktails. I never fell for it but it appears several people did:
3 comments:
Wow wow wowie wow wow. You just moved up a couple notches in my admiration scale, and you previously were pretty way up there to begin with. I let myself get involved in a couple similar situations, but I went in eyes wide open and came out the same way. Dumped their asses
fast! Good for you, Mr Duce.
Why thank you Carl!
Scary!
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