Imagine never having to work again.

Contributed by Dan Lester on 05/07/10

Baptiste Charrette looked up at Jean Fondel when he said that. “What do you mean?”

They were sat out on the porch of Charette’s hotel in Montreal. It was a warm day in July, and Charrette had been reading a newspaper story about Adolph Hitler being appointed Chancellor of Germany. Fondel pushed his hat back and smiled at the pale, wizened little man. “Yes,” he continued. “Only suckers work for a living. Smart men sit back and let the suckers work for them.”

Charette leaned forward, eyes wide with barely concealed excitement. “Go on.”

“Take me, for example. You see me out there picking fruit? Or slaving away in a factory? Not me. I got my own thing. Of course, it ain’t entirely legal. If that bothers you, maybe I should just can it.”

“I’m willing to take a chance,” the hotelkeeper said, almost pleadingly. “What’s the deal?”

Fondel looked around, then leaned closer to Charette and spoke in a low, confidential tone. “Suppose I told you I knew a way to turn one ten-dollar bill into three?”

Charette looked at Fondel suspiciously. “I’d have to see it first.”

Fondel’s smile became even broader. “Let’s go up to my room and I’ll give you a demonstration.”

When they were in his room, Fondel took a small bottle out of his suitcase, and a ten dollar bill from his wallet, along with two pieces of banknote paper cut to the same size. He covered both sides of the note with the contents of the bottle, before placing it between the two pieces of paper. Turning back toward the suitcase, and away from Charette, he rummaged around until he found an envelope, into which he appeared to place the bank note paper and the bill. Turning around, he sealed the envelope, then handed it to Charette. “Put that somewhere safe,” he said, “and check it tomorrow morning.”

The next day, just before breakfast, Charette ran into Fondel’s room, excitedly waving three ten-dollar bills around. “It works!”

“Of course it works,” said Fondel, smiling.

Charette lowered the notes. “Listen, maybe you can tell me where you bought that stuff?”

“Well, it’s not quite that simple,” Fondel said carefully. “See, you can’t just buy this stuff in the general store. I have to mix it together myself, and it ain’t cheap.”

Charette considered this for a moment, casting a quick glance at Fondel’s suitcase. “You got any left you could sell?”

“I got a bottle I could sell,” Fondel said, “for two thousand dollars.”

Two hours later, Fondel was on his way with most of the contents of Charette’s safe in his pocket, and Charette was whistling to himself as he coated several ten dollar bills with watered down peroxide.