What Would You Do for a Klondike Bar?

Thursday, 7:15 p.m.
The ad posted on Craig's list read:
Seeking two tickets to Cubs-Marlins at Wrigley, Game 6 or 7, preferably together, preferably sitting inside Wrigley, preferably with view of the players. My limit: $200. However, willing to be creative to make up the rest of the funds.

Thursday, 8 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Please note: This no joke.
• I am very serious about this. Let's discuss what I can do for you.

Thursday, 8:05 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• What you're asking me to do is creepy and disturbing.
• I will not give you a hand job, a blow job, or a red wing job. Especially the last one. I don't even know what that means.
• Please note: I have no desire to know what that means.

Thursday, 8:07 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• What part of the no sex stuff don't you understand?
• And I had no desire to learn what it means to get a red wing job.
• I'm not sure I can go to sleep tonight.
• And just so you stop asking: I will not sit and watch you rub yourself Bob Dylan albums.
• Get creative. Imagine what I could do for you that isn't sexual.

Thursday, 8:15 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• You know, I'd gladly wash your car for the next few months.
• Or do all of your housework, run your errands.
• Mow the yard. Wash dishes. Housesit. Pet sit.
• I could be your servant.
• But I've thought it over, and I won't let you beat me repeatedly with a baseball bat.
• Once or twice I could see. This is the Cubs, I understand that sacrifices have to be made. But until you "get tired"? Forget it, dad.

Thursday, 8:23 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Here's what I was thinking: do you have a lonely elderly person you want to keep company for the next month? I'd do that. Isn't that nice, a chore you'd hate to do but sure would sure love to give to someone else?
• But I won't kill your grandfather.

Thursday, 8:29 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• I'm glad you have a fine collection of expensive cigars and your own humidor.
• But as tempting as it sounds, I won't let you set me on fire so you can light your cigars.
• In fact, I want all of you to stop asking if you can set me on fire.
• I mean it: No fire. And you can't pour gasoline on me, either.
• And let's not forget about what I said with the non-sexual activity. Yes, that meant cigars.

Thursday, 8:56 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Let's review: no sex, no beatings or killing – of me or someone else. No lighting me on fire. And I know I didn't write this before, but it should go without saying that I won't re-enact the dinner scene in Hannibal.

Thursday, 9:27 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Maybe I was a bit hasty when I said I wouldn't kill that guy's grandfather.
• But screw it. I'll blow anyone for two tickets.

Thursday, 9:29 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Fine, I'll red wing you.
• But then they have to be box seats.

Thursday, 9:31 p.m.
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Okay, they don't have to be box seats.
• They can be anywhere, so long as they're together and I can see the game.

Thursday, 9:34
Revisions added to the end of the listing:
• Fine, I'll stand on your shoulders and try to peer over the wall.
• But you better be tall.

(Think this is made up? Find it here.)