While in Chicago, I saw Mr. Wallace’s car. He must have taken that car on a garbage picking mission to Baghdad. Who knew a car could get jacked up THAT quick?
I once tried to buy Mr. Wallace’s house. Here was my offer: In exchange for the title, he would receive three things…
|2.||Home cooked meals.|
|3.||The right to live in his house until his untimely death.|
#2 was the key. Mr. Wallace didn’t appear to get much exercise. By providing a steady diet of lard infused greaseball sandwiches and rich pastries, the “occupancy issue” would have sped to a quick resolution.
While initially agreeing to this ethically flawed contract, I don’t think he ever took the offer seriously. I dropped the scheme after I realized its absurdity.