by Fielding Mellish (TMF Sloofrpa)
Two weeks ago, Chester Rozalowski heard the most exciting news of his life. He was judged to be the most direct heir to William Shakespeare's $18.7 billion fortune and was awarded the entire inheritance.
We asked Chester to send us his profile, and then I traveled to Argentina for a face-to-face interview.
Birthplace: Gdansk, Poland
Current Residence: Buenos Aires, Argentina
Occupation: Pig farmer
Hobbies: The konkovka, folk dancing, hanging out with Maradona and Batistuta (my dogs), playing Jenga
Smartest Investment: Juanita, my prize-winning sow. I won her by placing first in a local sausage-eating contest.
Dumbest Investment: I once paid 100 pesos for a pig that turned out to be a really fat dog. Do your homework, the Fools say!
Great Book Read Recently: Intestinal Worms: How to Diagnose, Extract, and Burn
Favorite Author: I guess I have to say Shakespeare, don't I? I'm embarrassed, though. The only play I've looked at was Hamlet, and I didn't understand it. It wasn't what I thought it was going to be.
Personal Quote: "If it looks like a pig, smells like a pig, and sounds like a pig, that still doesn't mean it's a pig."
After spending some time with Chester, it was readily apparent that he wasn't used to being interviewed. Nevertheless, we're confident that he will soon grow accustomed to his recent fame and wealth with the same relative ease in which he bathes a pig: with strong hands, a delicate touch, and a tolerance for foul odors.
Fool: Hi, Chester.
Chester: Hello.
Fool: Let's start off by talking about how your life has changed. What have the last two weeks been like?
Chester: You're standing on the chicken feed.
Fool: Oh, sorry. Is this better?
Chester: Well... yeah. I guess. Actually, no. Stand over there by the shed.
Fool: The shed?
Chester: Yeah.
Fool: OK, let's get started.
Chester: No, I meant the other shed over by the wall.
Fool: That's not a shed.
Chester: Yes it is.
Fool: I promise you. It's not.
Chester: Yes it is. That's definitely a shed.
Fool: It doesn't look anything like a shed!
Chester: Honey! Hang on a second... we'll settle this.
Fool: It really doesn't matter.
Chester: Sure it matters. I'm a farmer. I need to know what is a shed and what isn't.
Fool: Well, you don't know the difference.
Chester: We'll see.
Chester's Wife: Yes, dear?
Chester: Is that or is that not a shed?
Chester's Wife: That's not a shed, dear. That's a tire.
Chester: Ay caramba. I gotta get new glasses.
Fool: Can we get started now?
Chester: I'm so embarrassed. You must think I'm an idiot.
Fool: No, I don't. Honest. Ready to start?
Chester: I mean, maybe if it had been a garage.
Fool: It's no big deal.
Chester: Yeah, I guess you're right. Hey, would you like some lemonade?
Fool: No.
Chester: It's very good.
Fool: I don't like lemons.
Chester: What's not to like about a lemon?
Fool: I just don't.
Chester: I think you're lying.
Fool: I'm not!
Chester: I'm gonna get you some lemonade.
[Leaves.]
[Returns 20 minutes later.]
Chester: We're out of lemonade.
Fool: Good.
Chester: Why is that good? I wanted some lemonade.
Fool: No, I meant "good" in that we can finally get started.
Chester: You don't like me.
Fool: It's not that at all. I was just hoping to ask you some questions.
Chester: Is it because of the shed thing?
Fool: No.
Chester: You could quiz me, you know. Point at something. Go ahead.
Fool: [Points at a tractor]
Chester: Shed.
Fool: No.
Chester: You gotta be kidding me! That's not a shed?
Fool: Look, Chester. If I don't go back to Virginia with an interview, my editor will kill me.
Chester: OK, sorry. Ask away.
Fool: What have these last two weeks been like?
Chester: Pretty crazy.
Fool: And what are you going to do with the money?
Chester: You're standing on the chicken feed again.
[End of Interview]
Next: TMF Edible's Commentary »
Chester poses with a piglet
Name: Chester Rozalowski
I was almost thrown out of my seat as my rental jeep bounced along the bumpy dirt path that served as Chester's driveway. I took in my surroundings. On the left were several pens housing… you guessed it, pigs. They ran along the fence, chasing my vehicle. On the right I passed what appeared to be a "pig crossing" sign. Below it were the words "El Rancho De Chester." I was in the right place. As I crested a large hill, Chester's farmhouse came into view. He was sitting on his porch, playing what looked like a flute.
Chester and Juanita, his prize-winning pig
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