“Hey, Mike Tyson! Do you want $50,000?” I shout to the heavyweight boxing champion.
“Okay, Thure, why not?” He comes towards me and I mentally wet my pants because Mike Tyson is damn creepy.
“All right, Mr. Tyson, just beat me. But do it really well. And aim for the arm, please.”
“Hm, okay.” He slaps my arm. I barely feel it, but what I do feel is the fat pile of money materializing in my other hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Tyson, you’re the best!” I say as I split the stack in half and give him one half.
“How the hell did you do that?” he asks, very confused, because I have just conjured money out of thin air.
“Honestly, I have no idea, sir,” I say, putting the money in my pocket and walking briskly away. “Thank you very much, Mr. Tyson!”
“Has any of you seen that guy?” Tyson said.
Basically, I get 50 grand and Mike Tyson thinks I’m a magician.
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