A man came into my office, one day. He was elegantly dressed in a black suit.
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Hi, Barefoot Jenny. Do you recognize me?"
I looked him over—and I did. "Frank Bails."
"I thought you were in jail for a while."
"I got out on parole. I guess you could say Bails got bailed!" He chuckled.
"And you've come here for revenge, because I helped put you away, right?"
"Not at all! I have a proposal for you—so to speak."
"OK, let's hear it."
"I like you; you've got guts. Walking barefoot on a floor covered in glass was quite a 'feat'—so to speak! How would you like to join my organization?"
This shocked me! "Join you?"
"I can offer you a 6-figure salary, good benefits, and a very relaxed work week."
"Doing activities that are 'slightly' illegal, right?"
"Let's just say, they are. . . above the law. But really, that's no different from some of the crap that you do."
"True," I conceded. "But my motives behind them are always ethical—unlike you."
He nodded. "I'll give you that."
"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Bails. But no thanks."
He nodded. "I didn't really think you'd go for it. But I do have one question for you: How were you able to walk on the glass without cutting your feet?"
"An old carnival trick. I learned it from a lady named Madam Wanda; she used to do it back in the 60's and 70's."
"And your feet weren't harmed at all?"
"See for yourself!"
I propped them up on my desk! He looked them over and chuckled. Then he got up.
"OK, I'm convinced! Well, I guess we'll be running into each other, again."
"May it be a friendly encounter."
"I quite agree, Barefoot Jenny."
We shook hands, and he left.
Thankfully, I haven't had any more recent encounters with him.