Say, as long as you're going that way, would you do me a favor? My Great Great Uncle Clem was a stagecoach robber and gigolo who was hung by his neck until dead dead dead in 1880s Arkansas. He probably lives in the fourth circle of Hell - you'll be able to tell his house because of all the empty Old Crow bottles in the front yard.
So if you would, give old Clem a call when you get there and ask him where in the sam hill he buried that box of double eagles he got out of that last stage robbery he pulled. I'd appreciate it ever so much.
Hey, yeah, and when you bump into my seventh grade homeroom teacher, tell her I did too amount to something.