A mangy looking guy who goes into a bar and orders a drink. The

bartender says: "No way. I don't think you can pay for it." The guy says,

"You're right. I don't have any money, but if I show you something you

haven't seen before, will you give me a drink?"

The bartender says, "Only if what you show me ain't risque." "Deal!"

says the guy and reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a hamster. He

puts the hamster on the bar and it runs to the end of the bar, down the bar,

across the room, up the piano, jumps on the key board and starts playing

Gershwin songs. And the hamster is really good.

The bartender says, "You're right. I've never seen anything like that

before. That hamster is truly good on the piano." The guy downs the drink

and asks the bartender for another.

"Money or another miracle else no drink", says the bartender. The guy

reaches into his coat again and pulls out a frog. He puts the frog on the

bar, and the frog starts to sing. He has a marvelous voice and great pitch.

A fine singer. A stranger from the other end of the bar runs over to the

guy and offers him $300 for the frog.

The guy says "It's a deal." He takes the three hundred and gives the

stranger the frog. The stranger runs out of the bar. The bartender says to

the guy "Are you some kind of nut? You sold a singing frog for $300? It

must have been worth millions. You must be crazy."

"Not so", says the guy. "The hamster is also a ventriloquist."

A number of years ago there lived on Long Island, a wealthy business man

who had made and lost a couple of fortunes on Wall Street in his short

29 years. At the time of this story, the business man was enjoying his

third fortune and had taken a year off from work. His mother had

recently died and one day while he was exploring some old chests in the

attic of the huge farmhouse in the Adirondack Mountains near Lake

Placid, he came across a map that was obviously very, very old.

Something striking about the he map immediately caught his attention.

After studying the map for several days, the business man became

convinced that this was indeed an authentic map to the fabled Seven

Cities of Cybolla. Persistent stories handed down from generation to

generation told of a fabulously wealthy circle of seven cities whose

exact location had been lost somewhere in the deep, dark jungles of

Africa and had never been found. These stories also told of fabulous

stores of jewels, gold and priceless artifacts that still existed for

anyone who could locate the seven cities. The business man was

determined to be the first to find the Seven Cities of Cybolla and to

claim its treasures, so he confided in two of his closest friends and

persuaded them to join him. Together, they sailed to Africa, rode

overland for four days and found themselves in the small town of Aba on

the border of the deepest jungles in what was once the country of

Belgian Congo. There they organized a safari of 25 native porters

carrying food, clothing, supplies and large, empty boxes with which to

carry the treasures out of the jungle. Early the next morning, a line of

native porters led by the three Americans headed out into the jungles.

Travel was slow in the intense heat and humidity of the tropical forest,

particularly as they had to literally cut every inch of their path by

swinging huge machetes to clear away the vines and undergrowth. For four

days of grueling travel, following the markings on the old map, the

safari made its way across swollen rivers, through mosquito infested

swamps and past many alligator nests. At high noon on the fifth day,

while the safari was resting from its exhausting work, the group

suddenly heard a terrifying sound off in the distance in the direction

in which the safari was headed. "Foo! Foo! Foo!" was the sound. The

members of the safari looked at each other, unsure what was making such

a shrieking, ungodly sound. All of a sudden, there appeared in the air

directly over the group, a huge, black bird, screaming at a deafening

level, "Foo! Foo! Foo!" In one swoop, the Foo Bird took aim at the first

of the three Americans at the head of the safari, dove headlong through

the air at near supersonic speed in a dive bombing run so well executed

that any military pilot would have been impressed, and completely

covered the man with crap. It was a terrible, vile smelling mess! The

poor man quickly ran to the edge of the nearby stream, dove in and

immediately began to scrub away at the disgusting crap. After an hour of

hard work, the majority of the stuff had been washed away and the man

felt he was ready to move on again. That night, while everyone else was

sleeping, the man died. The rest of the expedition were truly saddened

by the death of the man, but the two remaining American organizers

decided that they should continue on in spite of this tragedy. They were

sure their friend would have wanted it that way and besides, now th e

treasure now only had to be split two ways. Before long they were on

their way, hacking their path through the jungle after they had properly

buried the body of their friend. Unfortunately they had not gone too far

when once again they heard the sounds of the approaching Foo Bird.

"Foo!. Foo! Foo!" The safari members began to run for cover but it was

too late and the huge Foo Bird suddenly appeared at the head of the line

of running people, took aim at the American in the lead, and dumped a

tremendous load which covered the man from head to foot. It was

excruciating to the poor man but as he raced to the stream to wash the

terrible mess off, he stopped, remembered that the first man had died

after he had cleaned away the very same kind of crap. Perhaps, he

reasoned, there was a connection between washing and his unfortunate

death. With that, the second man returned to the group, determined not

to take a bath as long as he could stand it. That determination lasted

for nearly a week when finally , it became so unbearable in appearance,

smell and discomfort that the man finally gave in. He went to the stream

and cleaned the mess from his body. Later that night, while everyone

else was sleeping, he died. The business man who had initiated the

safari was very sad because he had lost two of his closest friends, but

decided to continued because he knew his friends would have wanted him

to. Besides, the treasure would be his alone with no need to share it

with anyone else! The next morning he climbed to the top of the a hill

and to his amazement, there at his feet, lay a lush, tropical valley and

the Seven Cities of Cybolla glittering in all their glory. The business

man rushed down the hill, along the banks of the river and made his way

to the entrance of the cities. As he ran deliriously through the streets

of the cities he yelled "They are mine It's all mine!" He yelled so

loudly and was so overwhelmed at his unbelievable discovery that he

didn't hear the approaching Foo Bird. The gigantic bird took aim at the

business man and as accurately as in his first two attacks, smartly

deposited the largest load of crap yet on the man running through the

empty streets. The stunned man stopped and was about to rush to the

stream to wash the mess off when he realized that it would be certain

and immediate death in the night to do so. He sadly realized that he had

discovered the worlds richest treasures, but had also been given the

cross of isolation n at the same time. To make a very long story

somewhat shorter, the business man did claim all the wealth of the Seven

Cities of Cybolla, returned to America and lived a very long life in all

the luxury his unmeasured wealth could afford. However, he enjoyed his

wealth as a lonely, isolated man. His wife, his children, his family and

his friends disowned him because of the absolutely disgusting appearance

and stench of the man because of the crap. They did not understand why

he refused to wash the mess and clean himself. After many, lonely years,

he neared death. Realizing he had only a few more days to live, the

business man decided he wanted more than anything else to see his wife

and children again. Carefully, he went into the shower with steel wool

cleaning pads an d a chisel. It took him most of the day, but he was

clean and ready to greet his family at the door when they arrived for

dinner. He spent a wonderful evening sharing with the family, catching

up on all the news and local gossip, and finally they left. Later that

night, the business man died. Now I would not have imposed upon your

time and attention without having a purpose. I am very sensitive to the

value of time and am determined to make the time you have given to this

story worthwhile. My goal in telling this story is to draw from the

experience of this heroic and fabulously wealthy man and learn so that

we might become better and more mature individuals. I believe the true

message of this story is in fact, a moral with deep meaning for us all:

... "If the Foo shits, wear it."