Alien Money

      One night, in a bar, I was drinking heavily with a person from New Zealand.  One of the topics that came up was the differences in U.S. money and New Zealand's' money. She claimed she wanted to 'exchange money' to add to her collection,  but I instantly saw it as a cleverly disguised attempt to get her hands on on some valuable American currency.  However, she insisted that it was in the name of international curiosity, and since I was drunk I agreed. I pulled out my wad-o-cash I keep safely next to my sweaty nut sac, and she whipped out her native money that she kept in her animal skin she used to store valuables such as animal teeth and shiny trinkets.

     Although I was drunk, I suspected this was an attempt to trick me out of some valuable American money by trading me worthless money.  To foil her attempts at simply acquiring currency that is actually worth something, in trade of her near worthless dollar, we agreed to trade 1 US dollar, in exchange for 50,000 New Zealand dollars.  She then made a disturbing comment that rocked me to my red, white, and blue soul.  She claimed I wasn't man enough to rip a New Zealand dollar in half.  Since I had 50,000 of their so called dollars, and it is a hobby of mine of ripping the worthless currencies of other nations to shreds, I was only too ready for the challenge. Also, it was my belief that New Zealanders dealt with 18th century equipment to print their money on primitive papyrus based papers.  I saw this as an easy chance to prove her wrong, and that despite my occasional cross dressings on weekends, I WAS man enough to rip up paper.  "HAH!"  I scoffed, as I got ready to show exactly why America was such a 'strong' nation.  I was ready to rip it into a trillion pieces and force feed it to her.
  
      Unfortunately, as I found out that night, the people of New Zealand aren't just another primitive culture using 18th century printing presses to create a simple form of currency simply because the modern world has money.  They also do not worship fire, make sacrifices, or carve idol gods out of hardened snot.  They also do not wear colorful feather costumes and dance in prayer for good weather.  Not only do they have somewhat modern technology but these clever little, mud hut dwelling, mountain people decided to make a plastic based, bullet proof material called...umm plastic based bullet proof material.  When I inquired, she claimed it had something to do with it being "prudent" since it lasts longer.  I explained that in America we call it "being too lazy to make more money".

    Despite all of this I felt confident, however simply proving that their currency wasn't worth the papyrus it was printed on wasn't enough though.  I decided to up the ante. I subtly offered a side wager.  I offered the entire nation of Puerto Rico if I couldn't rip the dollar, in exchange for the entire land of New Zealand if I could.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, this was the type of trick New Zealanders play on drunk Americans all the time, so she was more than eager to acquire more land in what she saw was to be a sure bet.  Also unbeknownst to me, America doesn't actually own Puerto Rico.

      At any rate, the proverbial gauntlet had been tossed. With national pride at stake I used my American strength and my American dentist maintained teeth, to make short work of the so called indestructible dollar.  With a mighty "...riiip", I easily tore their dollar in half. She stared at me amazed, as though I had urinated on the alter of their sun god.  Before her jaw could be picked up off the floor, I began my end zone dance.  I bragged loudly to everyone in earshot about how we now own New Zealand.  As the entire bar erupted in screams of happiness, a small voice in the back pointed out a disturbing fact.  "New Zealand isn't worth owning", he said.

    It was true.  He showed me pie charts, graphs, and technical facts about the two tiny islands.   In fact, there was nothing "new" about it at all.  I even got a reliable tip from someone I shall call "Dad" that  the whole place stinks of rotten eggs and the locals are inbred with the sheep.  Worst of all, I don't even think the person that made the bet was in a position to give away anything.  

The so called money bears my autograph. A fake name I was using that day "Mike".  The whole text says...."Ha ha...And you said I couldn't rip it...NOT."   It doesn't make sense but like I said...I was drunk.