I once did a bit of mining for gold.
It was in a rather desolate spot so I didn't fear anyone interfering, but I was quite happy digging up bright glittery bits of gold. I dug up a good pound of the stuff and carried it to town to have it valued.

It was iron pyrite, of course.

Disillusioned, I went to a bar to drown my sorrows and put a chunk of glittery worthlessness on the table in front of me so I could glare at it as I drank.

A guy approached me, his eyes never far from the pyrite. "Excuse me, but... well, where did you get that?"

"Up in the hills," I replied. "I'm waiting for the office to open so I can sell this chunk and buy some proper equipment. I about did my back in going by hand with a shovel and pick. Probably not a lot more that I can do without some blasting- I might just get out of it altogether."

"How much would you sell your rights for?"

A bit of haggling ensued, and we finally arrived at a price that I felt was more than fair for a useless hole in the ground. We drew up a paper to transfer all interests I had in the site to him, with an accurate description of its location, including a map. A work of art, if I say so myself.

In fact, that paper was really the only worthwhile thing he got out of it. I would hope that he retained it and displayed it as a reminder that when something seems to good to be true, it generally is.

And that was my shit claim to frame.

(/coat)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 26 Sep 2012, 10:33, 2 replies)

*shudders with shame*

( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 26 Sep 2012, 10:49, closed)

What can I say? You inspired me.
youtu.be/MSHaCzb3yYk

Gonna take me a bit to come up with another one, though.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 26 Sep 2012, 10:50, closed)