A short story

Yesterday, I got a call from a prospective home-buyer interested in our house. He called around 2:30pm while I was getting ready to leave work. The conversation sounded something like this:

Caller: Hello? Hello? Ah jes, ees thees Kalup? My name Manuel and English no so good for me. I want... I want you house.

Me: You want to buy my house?

Manuel: Jes. You coming here today?

Me: Here? Wait, you are at my house right now?

Manuel: Jes. I give you one fifty thousand cash right now for it.

Me: (A little peeved) No. That is not an acceptable offer.

Manuel: Ok. You coming here at 5?

Me: I'll be there sooner than that!
End Call


The myriad of possibilities of what this could be about came rushing into my head...
1. This is some poor sap that just came into the country and has no idea how to buy a house.
2. This is a housing scam of some sort.
3. This is someone who is setting up an ambush because of what I do.
4. This is a prank.
5. This is a mental patient in crisis with an affinity for bad housing deals.

So while I was flying home from work running the various scenarios in my head, I came to a revelation: "Strange stuff like this doesn't happen to me, what is different about today? OH YEAH, my Ecuadorian friend Paul Arguello is in town! Only, it didn't sound like Paul on the phone. And how did that person get my phone number? It's not on the for sale sign. Neither is my name. Oh, this is definitely the work of Paul! That means he is already at my house. Which means he IS waiting to ambush me! I'll flip this on him!"

And so, the hunter became the hunted, and I did not sell my house for the low-ball offer of $150,000 and some chickens. Silly Ecuadorians and their chickens.

The End