I opened my junk mail and there it was -- a fake check -- on light blue paper, made out in my name, for the amount of $95,093.35, complete with electronic banking numbers along the bottom and an "authorized signature." It looked so real, except for the words "non-negotiable" printed clearly in the top right-hand corner.

I scooted Hobbit, my cat, off of the keyboard and to the right of my monitor. A letter, attached to the fake check by a perforated score, read:

Patrick Combs, I expected to hear from you by now. Take a close look at the check above. It's just a sample of the money you could be receiving.

We took in that amount in just three weeks. Other mailboxes have also made hundreds of thousands of dollars. In fact, your mailbox, at 326 Carl Street, could soon be stuffed full of checks in varying amounts and free merchandise. This is the same offer you’ve seen on TV! Patrick, I know what you must be thinking, "Is this for real?" Let me assure you, it is very real.

I knew it was a bogus come-on from some junk mail scammer, but I liked it none-the-less. I loved seeing my name attached to so much money. I was in $40,000 of credit card debt that I’d run up in the last two years launching myself as a professional speaker. $40,000 of debt sucks, especially when you're only twenty-eight.

The fake check seemed too good for the trash. I figured that there had to be something fun I could do with it. It was, at the very least, a good novelty item deserving a place on my wall...

But then I thought of something even better...

Deposit it.

Yeah... That's funny!

It could prompt quite a funny conversation with my bank. ... "Ah, Mr. Combs, we've got some disappointing news. The check you deposited yesterday, for $95,000... Do you know what non-negotiable means?" a banker might say.

"That I can't negotiate with you for more money, like ninety-six or ninety seven thousand?" I might say back.

I could so easily picture a good laugh - especially with my bank since they are extra-friendly as evidenced by their amazing $5 Perfect Service Guarantee which states that if anytime they make a mistake, point it out to them and they'll give you $5 cash, on the spot.

Yes, a joke like this was something my bank could really enjoy, so I headed out to make the silly deposit. As usual, there was a line at the ATM machine's attached to the outside wall of the Haight Street branch. But it didn't take long. Within minutes the check was disappearing into the scrolling mouth of the ATM. To me, this was really, really funny. As far as I was concerned, the bank had just accepted Monolopy money. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I walked away from my bank laughing.

Saturday and Sunday passed without incident.

Monday, I expected to hear from my bank but didn't.

Tuesday, I didn't think once about the deposit.

Then, on Wednesday while running errands, I withdrew $40 from my automated bank machine. Out spit the two twenties and the little banking statement. I stared at it. It looked like Ed McMahon had sent it. My bank balance was almost a hundred thousand dollars.

The bank had accepted the phony $95,093.35 deposit!

End of Part I