This should have been easy. I have my hands behind my back. It's cool in the air conditioning. This sundress doesn't have pockets. I am disappointed, surprised and a hundred dollars poorer as I bring my hands forward to give Joel his payout. I came prepared. It's in American one dollar bills. Only seventy-five of them, thanks to the exchange rate. A nice thick half-inch stack. Because if you can't win a bet, at least be an asshole about it.
Joel laughs. It pays to support the underdogs.
Total fluke, I repeat. I learned my lesson. Six Stanley cups already, one won in my lifetime even (unlike my beloved Leafs), so the Bruins should have been a natural inevitability instead of a glaring jolt and so I was cocky.
Lochlan warned me not to bet actual money. I never listen to him of course, generally reaping hundreds from the boys since they make bets with their dicks instead of their brains.
I did that tonight, I guess. I made a bet using my dick as a compass and it pointed me in the wrong direction. Stupid thing. Clearly it's broken so good thing it's imaginary.
I hand him his money and he laughs out loud. At least it isn't pennies.
I tried to get them. I also tried to get you a hundred dollars worth of marshmallows but I didn't have enough notice.
He laughs harder. This is fine. I think.
One by one everyone pays him. The odds were so crooked here, and he was the only one willing to stake his cash on a team that's never won before. PJ hands over a gift card to the Keg for a hundred bucks and wipes away a tear.
Lochlan hands him a stack of fifty two-dollar scratch cards.
Ben gives Joel a crisp fake one hundred, waiting for him to notice the fact that Justin Trudeau is on it. Joel absently puts it into his wallet and thanks Ben for not giving him a hay bale, as once threatened.
Look at the bill, Ben says.
Joel gives him a withering look. It's fake isn't it?
Ben claps him on the back. The hay bale is behind your car. I can help you load it in whenever you're ready. PJ can help. We can cut it in half if we need to, right PJ?
PJ nods. He is full-on crying now. Aren't we something.
Joel laughs. It pays to support the underdogs.
Total fluke, I repeat. I learned my lesson. Six Stanley cups already, one won in my lifetime even (unlike my beloved Leafs), so the Bruins should have been a natural inevitability instead of a glaring jolt and so I was cocky.
Lochlan warned me not to bet actual money. I never listen to him of course, generally reaping hundreds from the boys since they make bets with their dicks instead of their brains.
I did that tonight, I guess. I made a bet using my dick as a compass and it pointed me in the wrong direction. Stupid thing. Clearly it's broken so good thing it's imaginary.
I hand him his money and he laughs out loud. At least it isn't pennies.
I tried to get them. I also tried to get you a hundred dollars worth of marshmallows but I didn't have enough notice.
He laughs harder. This is fine. I think.
One by one everyone pays him. The odds were so crooked here, and he was the only one willing to stake his cash on a team that's never won before. PJ hands over a gift card to the Keg for a hundred bucks and wipes away a tear.
Lochlan hands him a stack of fifty two-dollar scratch cards.
Ben gives Joel a crisp fake one hundred, waiting for him to notice the fact that Justin Trudeau is on it. Joel absently puts it into his wallet and thanks Ben for not giving him a hay bale, as once threatened.
Look at the bill, Ben says.
Joel gives him a withering look. It's fake isn't it?
Ben claps him on the back. The hay bale is behind your car. I can help you load it in whenever you're ready. PJ can help. We can cut it in half if we need to, right PJ?
PJ nods. He is full-on crying now. Aren't we something.