A man from the city put out an ad in a smalltown newspaper.
Every Friday, he would buy monkeys at $10 each.
They could be of any size, colour or age.
The town had plenty of monkeys and people had little to do.
Soon the residents got busy, fanning out and capturing monkeys.
Fridays were good as the man paid immediately.
By the third week, monkeys had become scarce.
However, the man raised his offer to $25 for each monkey.
The residents went out again and caught more monkeys.
Friday was again money day.
In the fifth week, there were hardly any monkeys around.
But when the man upped his offer to $50, people went out again.
They scoured the surrounding woods and caught more monkeys.
That Friday, a lot of people made a lot of money.
When week six arrived, there wasn't a single monkey left.
Although the offer was now $100 per monkey, no one found any.
Before he left that Friday, the man raised his offer to $200 per monkey.
That whole week, the residents hunted high and low for monkeys.
They trekked deep into the woods, studied birdcalls and even telephoned neighbouring towns.
But not one could find a monkey.
All seemed lost until an old lady stumbled on the campers just outside town.
There were three men, two dogs, two cages of birds and 300 cages of monkeys.
The good news was that the birds and monkeys were for sale.
The bad news was that they were heading for the city to sell them.
Over beer, someone asked the campers how much the buyer in the city would be paying for the monkeys.
$100 per monkey, said one of the men.
The residents quickly and silently did the math.
"How about we buy them from you at that rate?" they offered. "And you save on the transportation charges and your time."
It didn't take much time for the campers to see the logic.
Within the hour, 300 cages of monkeys were sold to the townsfolk.
No one bought any birds.
That Friday, everyone was in amazing spirits.
It was profit day and the margin was cent percent.
Except for one little thing.
The man didn't turn up.
Welcome to Wall Street, folks.
Every Friday, he would buy monkeys at $10 each.
They could be of any size, colour or age.
The town had plenty of monkeys and people had little to do.
Soon the residents got busy, fanning out and capturing monkeys.
Fridays were good as the man paid immediately.
By the third week, monkeys had become scarce.
However, the man raised his offer to $25 for each monkey.
The residents went out again and caught more monkeys.
Friday was again money day.
In the fifth week, there were hardly any monkeys around.
But when the man upped his offer to $50, people went out again.
They scoured the surrounding woods and caught more monkeys.
That Friday, a lot of people made a lot of money.
When week six arrived, there wasn't a single monkey left.
Although the offer was now $100 per monkey, no one found any.
Before he left that Friday, the man raised his offer to $200 per monkey.
That whole week, the residents hunted high and low for monkeys.
They trekked deep into the woods, studied birdcalls and even telephoned neighbouring towns.
But not one could find a monkey.
All seemed lost until an old lady stumbled on the campers just outside town.
There were three men, two dogs, two cages of birds and 300 cages of monkeys.
The good news was that the birds and monkeys were for sale.
The bad news was that they were heading for the city to sell them.
Over beer, someone asked the campers how much the buyer in the city would be paying for the monkeys.
$100 per monkey, said one of the men.
The residents quickly and silently did the math.
"How about we buy them from you at that rate?" they offered. "And you save on the transportation charges and your time."
It didn't take much time for the campers to see the logic.
Within the hour, 300 cages of monkeys were sold to the townsfolk.
No one bought any birds.
That Friday, everyone was in amazing spirits.
It was profit day and the margin was cent percent.
Except for one little thing.
The man didn't turn up.
Welcome to Wall Street, folks.