Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.. Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

My college buddy (who shall remain nameless) loves pushing the envelop of what is socially acceptable.

For instance, he bought a house in which the inside walls were painted a very hideous color. It was a dark unusual shade of purplish green blue tone. The truth is that I'm unable to describe the color because it's a hue not found in nature.

He bought it purely because it was cheap. I suspect that it's cheap because no one would want to tackle the job of stripping the paint off the walls and repainting. (The color is so dark that you can't just paint over it with a lighter color.)

Even though he hated the color, he was too lazy to strip the paint off the walls. So he painted the walls black.

Sometimes, his outrageous exploits paid off. For example, he once submitted a one-million dollar deposit at his bank's ATM. Only, there were no money in the envelop. However, the bank computer went ahead and credited his account with one million dollars. (He explained to me that he had planned to say he was playing a practical joke if the bank people came after him.) In the morning, when the banking staff found that the envelop was empty, they debited the one million from his account.
And all is right again. Right?

Well, no. Between the time when he submitted the deposit and when they debited the million from his account, that fake million was accruing interest at 5% APR. That's $140 in interest for the over night deposit which they never bothered to take back. (They've since fixed the software glitch; it didn't work when he tried to do it again later.)

The most memorable of his exploits involved the purchase of a mint condition 1966 drop-top Ford Mustang.

He was scanning through the classified ads when he noticed an ad for this particular vintage vehicle. According to the print, the owner was asking for fifty dollars. He suspected that it was a misprint; that it should have been for fifty thousand dollars but the publisher mistakenly dropped three zeros at the end of the figure.

However, he decided to inquire after the car, anyway. He figured that when the owner insists that the fifty dollar price was a misprint, he was going to hassle the owner about the deceptive advertisement. (Don't ask me how anyone can possibly do that without being embarrassed; but that's my college buddy!)

Surprisingly, when he got there, the owner reaffirmed the price: fifty dollars.

My buddy inspected the car, checked out the engine under the bonnet, and test drove the 'stang. There was nothing wrong with the car.

Fifty dollars, right?

Right.

He quickly whipped out his wallet, handed her a fifty dollar U. S. Treasury note, and grabbed the keys as quickly as she finished saying the word "Right".

But as he drove the car down the long asphalt driveway, his curiosity got the best of him. He turned the car around and knocked on her door.

When she came out, he explained, "I need to know the story behind the fifty dollar asking price. No matter what you tell me, I'm not going to change my mind about the purchase. I don't care if I'll loose the car tomorrow. I just need to satisfy my curiosity."

The woman proceeded to explain that the car belonged to her husband. Evidently, he ran off with his secretary to South America. When he phoned home, he said, "Honey, you can have everything: the house, the bank accounts, the investment fund accounts, your car, everything. All I ask is that you sell my Mustang and send me the money."