He arrived at the invitation of the proprietor of the lone local saloon, driving an impressive looking black and yellow covered wagon, that pulled a matching Porto Potty behind for the exclusive use of the driver, into town . The owner of the saloon hinted that this wizard was the one responsible for the supply of "Victory" being served in the big city of Pittsburgh and proclaimed him the Head Bar Keeper and that "Victory" was soon to be served.
The fan base was elated. The sad truth though, was that this charlatan had drank plenty of "Victory" but never actually worked as a bar keeper nor tended a bar. He used his Porto Potty to contemplate his next move. It finally dawned on him to use the most experienced and talented member of the existing staff to tend the bar and the wizard would be free from blame when the supply of "Victory" failed to be delivered.
Unbeknownst to the charlatan, the intended victim of his evil plan was a man of faith and integrity who felt deeply for the thirsty fan base. Over his years of travel and experience the victim was able to collect his own stock of "Victory" that he kept secreted under the bar, locked away for personal use.
Every day the charlatan would sit in his Porto Potty and think. Finally, it came to him, and with a grunt the rest of his evil plot was hatched. He would begin to fill empty bottles with his own urine until he had a big enough supply to fool the people into thinking that the supply of "Victory" had arrived as promised. Then when the patrons get served the piss, the charlatan would accuse the bar tender of stealing the "Victory". At this point the victim would be run out of town and the charlatan would buy time to learn the business and find how to get an actual supply of "Victory".
When the day of the grand re-opening of the saloon arrived, the intended victim (and bartender) decided to taste the new batch of "Victory" to compare it to his own aged stock. He poured a splash into a shot glass and knew the color was off and when he smelled the odor of urine he knew what was up. What would he do? He did not want to disappoint the patrons and he knew he would be blamed. Being a man of faith, he got down on his knees and began to pray to his patron saint (St. Louis), for guidance and additional prayers. The answer was given to the bartender’s heart from the lips of God almost immediately in three words: FAITH HOPE CHARITY.
The would-be-victim suddenly knew what he had to do. He was filled with faith in his abilities and hope for a positive outcome and his heart opened to the charity of giving from his own stock.
The charlatan was amazed that "Victory" was actually being served from bottles of his piss, so much so, that he began to believe that he, himself was, in fact a wizard.
Truth was so foreign to the charlatan that he never figured out that the bartender was throwing out the Whiz’s piss and changing the bottles at the bar with the genuine article, "Victory".
As time went on the Whiz never attempted to learn the business nor seek out a supply of "Victory" of his own. He just kept pissing away and was greatly rewarded by the owner of the saloon for his false wizardry. He was given the keys to everything along with the power to hire and fire. The Whiz became ruthless and began berating and humiliating his staff and employees.
Then one day, the good bartender was saddened to see that his personal stock of "Victory" was almost depleted and that without a fresh supply everything would be found out. He prayed once again for an answer. He decided to keep enough real "Victory" on hand for the remainder of the year and train a younger bartender to take over. When the day came and the successor was trained well enough, our hero declared his retirement and shocked everyone, everyone that is except the Whiz, who, by this time, had stopped using deodorizers in his Porto Potty because he "KNEW" it didn’t stink. He actually believed he was "The Whiz" and the sooner his only rival for glory was gone, the better. In his mind all he had to do, was plug in a new bartender and keep on pissing.
"Victory" was served for a short time after the good bartender had retired from the saloon. He, and the patrons he dearly loved, watched events unfold as the "Victory" disappeared and the charlatan was caught with his pants down and without a clue. Try as he may to deflect the blame for making patrons sick with what came directly from within him. He was soon let go by the owner. He hitched up his wagon with the Porto Potty in tow and left the little desert town and its fan base thirstier than when he found it. The sad reality is, once you taste "Victory" it leaves you with an unquenchable thirst for more.
The last I heard, the charlatan found a small ocean side town over in California, where he has a new angle he is trying to work. He believes this is a bigger and better act of wizardry. He goes into his Porto Potty and after each movement, fishes out the product with a broken twig and places them on ice. His plan is to sell them as "Fudgesicles" to the kids. He wants to make enough money to pay for his eventual trip back to Pittsburgh.
"The charlatan sells shit schemes down by the sea shore."
[Charlatan: In usage, a subtle difference is drawn between the charlatan and other kinds of confidence people. The charlatan is usually a salesperson. He does not try to create a personal relationship with his marks, or set up an elaborate hoax using roleplaying. Rather, the person called a charlatan is being accused of resorting to quackery, pseudoscience, or some knowingly employed bogus means of impressing people in order to swindle his victims by selling them worthless nostrums and similar goods or services that will not deliver on the promises made for them. The word calls forth the image of an old-time medicine show operator, who has long since left town by the time the people who bought his "snake oil" or similarly named tonic realize that it does not perform as advertised.]