Thread: My $7 Million Interitance — Almost

Gentlemen,

Last week I received a letter from someone who had bequeathed to me a modest sum of $7 million. Right you are, $7 million. The letter was from someone in Dubai, addressed to me, from the estate of a wealthy woman looking to leave her fortune to me, a possible relative.

Oh?

"Dear one . . ." the letter began.

"Dear one"? Who starts a letter to someone living in America with "Dear one"? I can see Dear sir, Dear Madam, or in my case, Dear cousin — after all, I was the lady's cousin. No, but "Dear One."

The letter went on to explain that the said kind lady wanted to dispose of her fortune at the end of a great life and I was selected to be the recipient.

Oh, yeah, now you're talking. Hey, listen, for $7 million I'll be anybody's cousin.

It's not so much that the writing was lawyer talk. No, the syntax was wobbly. The verbs, nouns and adjectives played hopscotch. And the sentence structure reminded me of something written by an English teacher on hooch.

"Dear one . . ."?

Anyway, in the end a phone number was given for me to call, introduce myself and claim my $7 million inheritance from my lost cousin in Dubai.

I would imagine that when I called, then the prompts would require my personal information for direct deposit, and so on.

Oh well, it would have been nice to be the recipient of that $7 million. I would have started by ordering a dozen Joe Chandlers, Robert Williams', Tim Zowadas, Mastro Levis, a couple of dozen Thiers-Issards, a stack of Bokers, another stack of Heribert Wackers, a dozen . . .

Okay, maybe next time.

Until another rich cousin from somewhere around the world finds me, this is Dear One signing off with regards.

Obie