The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I’ve been watching the price of oil this morning. Started out at 18 bucks a barrel and last time I peeked, it was a buck and 32 cents. Peak Oil my butt. I was thinking of trading a guitar or three for a hundred barrels, store them in an underground facility I’m considering building, then wait for the prices to go back up to 40 or 50, then retire a rich oil magnate. If we actually drove anywhere in these pandemic plague times, l’d never buy gas again in two lifetimes.

Course, being a shrewd and savvy futures trader, I’m probably going to wait a day or two, let the price go into negative territory when there’s nowhere to store the oil being pumped this month and let them pay me top dollar to take the stuff off their hands. Forget the underground storage facility, I’ll stack them to the top of the fir trees. Seven acres of crude. Black Gold. Texas Tea. Well, the first thing you know old Skeeter’s a millionaire, kinfolks said Skeet, move away from there. Said “Californy is the place you ought to be” so they loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly. Hills, that is. Swimmin pools, movie stars.

Holy cow, Batman, I just checked again those oil prices. 20 cents on the barrel. You heard me right. Two dimes. Yep, the future looks bright. Not the oil futures, mine. Yours too if you get off the internet watching coronavirus updates and following Trump Tweets and get on the phone to your broker. If you don’t have a broker, I might be able to offload a few barrels to your patio or garage. Free delivery, just like my pals at Amazon. Course you need to sign up for Skeeter Prime.

Whoa, took another look at the oil price and holey moley, it’s down 35 bucks below zero!! Hard to believe, really, but there’s money to be made here for all of us, looks like to me. God, what a great country…..

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