Earlier that day, I was chatting to a sixty year old bloke who was super excited because he'd just received some good news.
"I'm gonna be rich!" he told me.
I got super excited for him. Maybe he'd take me out to dinner or something.
"What's happened?" I asked him.
"I'm sitting on a gold mine!" he exclaimed. "Seriously, I'm gonna need to buy a huge safe!"
Now I was thinking dinner in Milan or Rome.
"I'm gonna buy my kids houses," he nodded at me. Would it sound odd if I started calling him Dad?
"What's happened?' I asked again.
"I told you. I'm sitting on a gold mine. Five tonnes of gold."
"Really?" I said. Hey, we live in Gympie. It's possible.
"Yep. About forty feet down."
"I'll get a shovel and meet you there," I offered.
"The psychic told me all about it," he grinned.
"The what?"
"The psychic. She told me there's five tonnes of gold about forty feet under my back yard. I'm gonna be rich!"
Yep, the full moon sure brings them out.
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