Give that man a sun dial

It was a rare occasion in one respect, but a dubious one at that. The Soothsayer agreed to join me for fried spaghetti during mid-day, and it was my responsibility to bring the moonshine. It was surprisingly easy to smuggle in, and there it sat next to the bottle of Heinz 57.

Soothsayer finally arrived and took an additional moment to find my table. Not only was he lacking focus, his skin tone suggested he was low on drink.

"I thought we agreed on the honor system. You know they don't believe me when I walk in with the cymbal case. The host should be looking at you."

I could see right through him; he was trying to delay from discussing the real reason for this meeting: society gambling. I wanted to get an agreement from him before any money was exchanged.

"Wait," the Soothsayer protested "who wanted to meet this way? You or me?"

I had to lay down the truth to a man who was in denial for a reason beyond me. "You dunce, we need to agree on this. No one's been able to find you, and when they do, you remind all of an Emu in heat. Your only admittance was that you stole my empty Bayer bottle and stepped on it. You're as unresponsive as Steve Simpson. And now you want me to define the rules AGAIN?"

Sheepishly he unhanded the bottle of Early Times and mumbled something while taking a rip at a slice of bread. "First," I said, "you and I will gamble evenly and constantly on everything we see in society. And this will be for large amounts of money, firewood, alcohol, or all three."

The Soothsayer then set down his fork, and looked to his left. "You are not king of the salad bar anymore. And this is a game in which I shall humiliate you." Sadly, his visor slid backwards from his head as he said this, creating a hearty laugh from all who viewed it. I saw my chance, and exclaimed. "Out the window! The Acura. $150 he turns into the parking lot." Without looking the Soothsayer held up a ticket from a Jean, Nevada casino.

"South siders, World Series. I fucking told you, and you have the brain capacity of a brillo pad."

The Acura then turned, and cut into the parking lot. I received not a glance, smile, or scowl from the Soothsayer, but a small envelope.

"This will more than make up for it. Oh, and try that Apple Crisp."

You think I'm going to follow his suggestions for food, if even in season? Hell no, society gambling is on, and there is no overtime, no halftime, and no end of deal-making-possibilities. Back to heat city...