Dear Scruloose,
You’ve been working for 16 years at the same place? In Illinois!? You’ve gotta be out of your mind! Take my advice: just saunter into work tomorrow naked as the day you were born. This should, of course, get you fired–unless, of course, you happen to be an exotic dancer, in which case I would recommend sauntering in in sweatpants over jeans and three parkas… mmm… parkas…
Now where was I? Oh, right, you’re fired now.
So now, of course, is the time to reap the glorious benefits of the unattached Illinoisan! I’m speaking, of course, of buried treasure. First you’ll need a shovel or two. These, of course, can be had at your finer hardware stores. (Curvy metal bit on a long wooden bit, ask if you can’t find one.) Then, of course, you’ll need some authentic treasure-digging apparel. Standard gimmerdasher boots and fordlither pants are, of course, a must. These can be found, of course, at your standard Treasury Pete’s Assorted Clothings or maybe a Burial Barn. Once you’re there you can, of course, ask the salesperson to show you where to find the rest of your ensemble. I’m talking about, of course, the proper shirt, jacket, hat, krevlacki, lard candles, and support hoses.
Last of all you will, of course, need a Peruvian Treasure Sniffling Monkey-Goat. These rare beasts will, of course, show you exactly where the treasure is buried by baying incessantly and making suggestive pantomimes to fail old women. Of course, Peruvian Treasure Sniffling Monkey-Goats are rather expensive, so I do hope you haven’t done anything rash like get yourself fired recently.
So now, of course, you’re ready to set out on an exciting life treasure recovery, your lard candle sputtering in the wind, your monkey-goat thrusting its pelvis at your grandmother, and your shovel (you were, of course, able to aquire one? they’re such hard to find items these days) slung across your back.
Best of Luck, Of Course,
Aioua
Treasure Hunter Extraordinare, Second Class