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your vital correspondence. How gracious and kind you are, dear one, to make me such a generous, even dare I say, unselfish, offer. Your description of your plight and your efforts to recover your stolen family fortune from the evil and tyrannous political opportunists who have betrayed you brought me to tears and opened my heart to you big-time.
    You mention that all you require is $50,000 to travel to Europe and recover the 3,000,000 pounds sterling awaiting you at the Royal Bank of England. Then you will reclaim your fortune. And, let me make sure that I get this down correctly; you are offering me $500,000 in return!! I am breathless! I cannot believe your kindness! Dear and gracious Princess, how giving and momentous can one person be? All I can say is, thank you, and gee whiz!
    Our local prayer circle meets the day after tomorrow. We will hold your success and well-beingand the restoration of your title and fortune in our hearts from then on, with HE who presides over us all.
    I am confident that I can speak for my fellow parishioners when I tell you that we will vote to put ourselves at your immediate disposal. This is your hour of need and I’m quite sure everyone will be in agreement. Therefore, I am confident that you can expect our check for not $50,000 but $60,000 —almost immediately. Also, as you astutely suggest, we will include our church’s wire-routing checking-account number, should there be any confusion regarding the cashing of our check.
    Dearest one, please wait at your mailbox daily for the funds to arrive.
    Your newest and most ardent admirer,
    Bruno Dante
    666 Ohsureur Drive
    Gulfport, MS 39501

three
    T he next morning, wearing the same puked-on tie from my interview, after paying the parking valet guy at the Beverly Hills Hotel almost ten bucks to relocate my Pontiac, I found the path to the bungalows and knocked on Number 104. I was sober except for slamming three Vicodin with my morning coffee on my way driving down Venice Boulevard.
    A gray-haired giant wearing a monogrammed blue robe opened the door, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Well, Bruno Dante. This is a surprise.”
    “At your service,” I said, feeling the vike buzz kicking in. “I’m ready for my first day.”
    “I wasn’t sure that I’d be seeing you today.”
    “I’m better,” I said. “Ninety-nine percent. Fact is I had an excellent bowel movement this morning.”
    Standing on the steps outside the bungalow, it was hard not to notice that my new employer’s robe wasn’t tied all the way closed. I caught a glimpse of what might roughly approximate the genitalia of a pastured rhino behind the terry cloth.
    “Wait here,” Koffman said, then disappeared into the darkness. A moment later he was back with a wad of money-clipped bills in his hand and the robe cinched closed.
    After peeling off several fifties Koffman held them out toward me. “There’s a men’s store on Hollywood Boulevard,” he said. “The Manhattan Tie Shop. At the corner of Cahuenga. Ask for the manager. His name is Octavio. He’s a doll. The store sells a three-piece polyester blue business suit—the perfect chauffeur’s uniform. They charge a hundred and seventy-nine dollars. Buy two. Have the store do the alterations while you wait. Then come back here dressed for work.”
    “Ten-four,” I said, half-snatching the money from his hand, wanting to appear eager and confident. “I’ll be dressed for success.”
    Again Buffalo Bill eyed me up and down. “Sooo, you’re okay, ready to start your new career?”
    “Nothing equals a good dump. To my way of thinking taking a decent shit is a life-affirming experience.”
    “How delightful.”
    “So I’ll be driving you around after I get back with my new duds?”
    “I’ve got a full to-do list.”
    “Swell. Have you rented another limo?”
    Somewhere in the room behind my boss a curtain came open and a sudden shaft of light illuminated a person—a young Latino guy—naked from the waist