I sell treasure maps.
And they're not too expensive.
People get a kick out of them,
thinking they might hit paydirt.
Of course the maps are worthless doodles.
They won't even locate the nearest KFC.
But they're colorful, filled with place names
like: 'Dead Man's Hole' and 'Croaker's Corner.'
One day this gal named Penelope Green
stops at my little kiosk at Times Square.
Says she's a reporter for
the New York Times.
She wants to buy a treasure map.
But I smell something fishy.
So I tell her I only sells maps
of Manhattan. Nothing else.
She slides a 100 Grand candy bar
across the counter towards me.
What could I do?
I give her one of the treasure maps.
I didn't think anything more
about it.
Everyone in Zanesville, Ohio,
suddenly decided to move to New York.
So business was brisk.
Nice thing about Ohio people
is they never complain.
Then I open the newspaper.
There on Page One it says
"NYT Reporter Strikes Pay Dirt!"
She dug up a mess of pirate gold
in Hoboken. Of all places.
Didn't say anything about my map.
Maybe she found it some other way.
With a metal detector. Maybe.
But I'll tell you this much --
If any other reporter ever
saunters up to my kiosk
to buy a treasure map
I'm gonna ask for a 50/50 split.
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