Go home and wait

The following is supposedly a true story. To be included, besides being true, the story is most likely strange, weird, surprising, or funny.
February 10, 1993 FBI and Florida authorities arrested Paul E. Flasher, 45, who had been sentenced to five years in prison in 1980 for grand theft but who had never been jailed. Flasher said he had gone home from the sentencing hearing in Tampa and "sat tight," just as his lawyer had instructed, waiting for notification to report to prison. Authorities forgot him for 12 years.

Blonde Bank Robbery

A blonde and a brunette decided to rob a bank. They quickly devised a plan and they put it into action. The brunette drove up to the front of the bank that they had decided to rob. She turned to the blonde and asked her, "Now, do you remember what the plan is?" The blonde sighed and replied, "Yeah, yeah, I remember..." The brunette went over the plan once more and let the blonde out to do her stuff. Before the blonde could shut the door, the brunette yelled out, "Be sure to be in and out in no more than 5 minutes!" The blonde ran inside and the brunette waited in the car...and waited...and waited...and waited...and waited. As the brunette was beginning to contemplate driving off, the blonde bursted out of the bank's doors, the alarm blaring loud enough to wake everyone up. The blonde was lugging a bank safe behind her by a rope tied around it. A security guard ran out of the bank, his pants down around his ankles as he attempted to reach his gun. The blonde breathed heavily as she tried to put the safe in the car but finally just gave up and dropped the safe behind. She jumped into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut, the car already moving. The security guard yelled, "Stop! Stop!" while the pair drove off, leaving the safe with rope tied tightly around it behind. The brunette frantically asked the blonde, "What the hell happened in there?!" The blonde was panting and turned to the brunette and choked out, "What do you mean? I followed the plan exactly!" The brunette paused and yelled, "YOU IDIOT! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TIE UP THE GUARD AND BLOW THE SAFE!"

How the Executive Lost His Classy Kicks

One day an extremely well-dressed and successful young executive was driving to a meeting when he found that the front left tire on his Porsche was flat. "What am I going to do?" he thought. But then he saw a gas station up ahead. It was a rundown shack with a grizzled man in overalls sitting on a porch with pools of oil, but at least it was a gas station; in the window was a large sign saying 'help wanted'. The executive drove up and got out of the car and explained the situation. "Why sure!" said the mechanic "I'm lookin' for a boy to work for me and help me out, so we're kinda short-handed." He looked over the dapper, dignified and impeccably dressed executive's very expensive navy blue pinstriped business suit, his imported silk tie and gleaming cuff links and white shirt, his polished black shoes, his hundred dollar haircut and his $1500 briefcase. 'My name is Bud! You must be one of them executives!" said the mechanic. "I can tell by your classy kicks!" "My WHAT?" snapped the exec. "Your KICKS! Your SHOES! Mighty classy, sir!" grinned the mechanic. "Yes. Well, the FIRST thing people notice are your shoes!" said the executive in a condescending tone, as he straightened his tie and checked the shine on his shoes. "My name is Mr. James Porter. I am making an important presentation today! My whole career depends on it. Now please get to work! What are you doing?!" Bud was pulling out a huge pail of water. "You get a free car wash today, sir! I sure wish I had a boy to work for me - I gotta do this all myself! Do YOU know somebody to work her for me?" "Of course not. Do I LOOK like someone who would know a GREASE MONKEY? And I don't have time for a car wash!" cried Mr. Porter. "Now, don't worry! You upper class folks are always worryin'!" And at that moment, Bud's foot hit the pail of water, and it toppled over, completely soaking Mr. Porter's expensively shod feet. "NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!" yelled Mr. Porter. "My feet are DRENCHED through! SOAKED! Do you know how much these shoes cost! Someone like YOU doesn't have to worry about this!" "Oh, sir! Please accept my apology! All over your fancy high class kicks! Well, it's a fine day, just take off yer shoes and socks and let 'em dry! They look look they're too tight, anyway! That's why you're so bad tempered. Tight shoes will do it every time. Nobody is gonna see ya, sir!" "Take off my shoes and socks! They're not too tight! They were handmade for me. I suppose I have no choice! I'm just glad that my colleagues can't see this!" said Mr. Porter, as he sat on the porch and slowly, grudgingly slid his feet out of his highly polished black Ferragamo shoes and then peeled off his silk business socks. Bud picked up the shoes and whistled with admiration. "Mighty fancy!" he said, with a grin. "EYETALIAN! FERRY-GAMO! Too bad they're so tight! And them socks sure are fancy, too! Real classy! Ya know, you look like you belong here now that yer barefoot!" "Put my shoes down immediately! How dare you put your filthy hands on them! I will NEVER look like I BELONG here! I feel ridiculous..." said Mr. Porter coldly. Mr. Porter carefully arranged his suit and tie as if to make up for the indignity of going barefoot. "Lemme show ya somethin', Mister Porter" said Bud, who got into the car and drove it forward and ran over Mr. Porter's briefcase, ruining it. "MY BRIEFCASE!" yelled the businessman. "Sorry, sir! But I have to tell ya something!" said Bud, who was bending over the engine. "I didn't ask you to look at the engine" shouted Mr. Porter. "You destroyed my briefcase!! All my papers..." "But you got a problem!" said Bud. "Look! Get closer!" Mr. Porter leaned over the engine. "I don't see anything?" "Closer!" said Bud. "I still don't?" and Mr. Porter began to lift his head, and felt himself stuck. "My tie!" he yelled. "My necktie and my suspenders! They're caught in the engine!" "Look what ya done, sir! I'll get ya free!" "I DIDN'T DO THIS!" yelled Mr. Porter, but he couldn't move at all. His tie and his suspenders had gotten tied up in the engine. Somehow. "Now just hold still!" said Bud, and in a moment, Mr. Porter was free, and his tie and suspenders were in Bud's hands. "ARE YOU INSANE?!" yelled Mr. Porter. "You took those off me. Give me those." "Mr. Porter" said Bud, ignoring the comment. "I'm gonna need yer help in getting that tire out of the back, and then you gotta help me get the new one - it's underneath an old engine. I can't lift 'em, ya see. I got lumbago. It's too bad I ain't got a boy to work for me!" "What?!" said Mr. Porter. "You expect ME to do it? Look at this suit! This is a two thousand dollar suit! It was tailored for me. I can't get it dirty, and this is a silk tie! And a hundred dollar shirt! I'm an executive. I don't do menial work." "I'm sorry, sir," said Bud. "There's no other way! I know! Why don't ya take off yer nice suit? I got a fine pair of overalls for ya!" "This is an outrage!" cried Mr. Porter. "I will NOT take off my business suit! I have my dignity and my pride!" "Then you'll have yer dignity and yer pride but you won't get a new tire" said Bud. Mr. Porter stomped and fumed but finally gave in and angrily stripped off his pinstriped business suit, his cufflinks and his starched white shirt and placed them on a wooden table. Then he put on the greasy overalls and pulled the tire out of the trunk. But just then his bare feet hit a patch of oil, and he staggered backwards and fell; the filthy tire fell on top of him. He felt his head hit something soft. Bud ran over and said: "Mr. Porter, it's a good thing your head hit the tar! It broke yer fall!" The executive pushed the tire off, and felt the grease, gravel and tar all over his t-shirt and his face. He lifted what had been a manicured hand to his head and felt a mass of something gooey. "My hair!" Mr. Porter yelled, as he stood. "I gotta cut that tar out, sir! It ain't gonna come out any other way!" and he pulled out some scissors and with a few quick snips, the executive's thick head of hair was replaced by a patchy crewcut. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" yelled Mr. Porter. "MY HAIR!" "Here, this will calm ya down!" Bud shoved a bottle of whiskey into Mr. Porter's hand and poured some of it on his shirt. "NO!" yelled the executive. "LOOK AT ME, YOU DUMMY!" "Leave me alone! Help, police!" screamed Bud. He grabbed Mr. Porter's cell phone and called the police and then called the newspaper. In a moment the police were there. Bud whimpered: "This man is drunk! Just smell him, officer! And tried to beat me up! and rob the till!" "I DID NOT!" shouted Mr. Porter. "Assault, robbery, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, drunkenness... you're coming with me!" And the policeman dragged the struggling Mr. Porter, barefoot in overalls off to jail. The next day the judge prepared to sentence Mr. Porter while they all looked at the newspaper with the headline: Drunk Thief Jailed for Assault and Robbery. James had been fired from his job and his lawyer refused to see him. But Bud said; "Your honor, don't put this man behind bars! He ATTACKED me, but, I'll allow him to make it up to me - I got an idea!" "What do you mean?" yelled Mr. Porter. "I.... I am a CORPORATE EXECUTIVE!" A month later, a customer drove up to Bud's and Bud called his new assistant to wait on him. A man in overalls and work boots and a crew cut came out, covered with grime, and started to work on the car. "JIMMY BOY! Don't forget the oil! You ex-cons are always slow!" "YES, SIR!" said Jimmy-boy Porter. A Porsche with a "for sale" sign sat outside. A help wanted sign lay in the garbage. In the window was an Italian pinstriped business suit, a silk tie, a white shirt, a pair of suspenders and a pair of cuff links with the initials JP with a "for sale" sign. "Don't forget what I told ya!" snapped Bud. "Did you polish 'em up?" "Yes, but, please..." said Jimmy-boy. "You don't need 'em anymore! I'm your boss... NOW MOVE IT!" yelled Bud. Jimmy-boy sighed and went up to the customer. "Sir, we have a special today - with an oil change, you can buy these real cheap." He held up a pair of very expensive polished gentleman's business shoes. "These are for sale. One pair of Ferragamo shoes - once worn by a former executive - best offer, silk socks included." Bud said: "Go on!" Jimmy boy sighed and said: "After all, the first thing people notice are your shoes. Real classy kicks..."