Nine

         “This is a bad idea.”
         Three days ago, I found myself sitting around a table with two of my old college friends, having been reunited under most unusual circumstances. The room was mostly empty, with the exception of our game, and in the center of the table sat two large piles of 100 dollar bills, allegedly each $500,000 in unmarked bills.
         “This is stupid guys,” I said for the fourth time, watching Bill and Pete from across the table. “Really stupid.”
         “Oh, shut up Tom,” Pete demanded, looking rather calm as he took his turn. “We each pay in 333,000, the winners take 500K a piece. Everybody wins.”
         “No, you idiot, not everyone wins. Someone has to LOSE for this to work,” I responded, taking my turn without a second thought.
         “To be fair Tom, it was your idea,” Bill chimed in.
         “This was not my idea! I said, ‘What kind of idiots would even consider playing Russian roulette?’ apparently, our kind of idiots,” I sighed.
         “Well, so what? Everyone’s gotta go sometime. Might as well go out with a BANG!” Yelled Pete, just as Bill took his turn, making us both jump.
         “Aww, come on guys!” Pete laughed. “This is just a game! Lighten up, will ya?” He pulled the trigger.
         “No, I don’t think it’s just a game,” Bill said, watching me take my turn. “One bullet, six chambers, and 1 million dollars in cash doesn’t sound like a game. It sounds like the start of a bad mystery novel.” Bill took a deep breath as he spun the chambers, cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger. He passed the gun to Pete, looking relieved.
         “Have you guys ever noticed how soft the space is right above your neck, underneath your jaw? Even if its all muscle, it’s still kinda squishy,” Pete said as he pulled the trigger a third time.
         “Pete, aren’t you worried? What happens when you lose, and you leave Molly and the kids-”
         “No, I’m not worried,” Pete said, cutting me off. “Because I don’t intend to lose.” He sat watching intently as I pulled the trigger, only to have it come up blank yet again.
         “Listen, guys, we should seriously stop this now. Let’s just take our money, go to lunch, and then go home,” I suggested, seriously hoping to convince my old friends to change their ways. To my surprise, Bill seemed to be agreeing with me.
         “Maybe Tom is right, Pete. I mean, really, this is a lot of money.”
         “Not to you it isn’t,” Pete snapped. “Mister Time-Magazine-Man-Of-The-Year, inventing your own damn type of computer. This is less than you make in a day.”
         “That’s my point,” Bill said. “No matter how much money I have, you can’t put a price on a human life.”
         “So is it about the money or the life, Bill? Make up your mind!”
         “Relax, Pete,” I said. “He doesn’t want to play any more, and neither do I. You know the rules. Majority wins, and we can all go home now. Come on.”
         “Not so fast, Tom,” Pete quipped. “You know that the rules also say that we need to finish a round before we can leave. I started, and then you went. Now it’s Bill’s turn. We can go as soon as he takes his third shot.”
         “Fine, let’s just go,” Bill said, pulling the trigger.
         An enormous bang echoed off of the walls.
         “Wow,” Pete laughed. “I did not see that coming.”
         “I told you it was a bad idea,” I bragged.
         “So… I guess Bill loses, huh?” Pete said, grabbing a pile of bills.
         “I killed her,” Bill muttered. “I didn’t think it would be that easy.”
         “Yea, Bill, it’s called a gun.”
         “Shut up Pete,” I said, raking my own pile of cash into the duffle bag I had brought. “Let’s dump her into the river, shall we?”
         “Oh, I wanted to bury her,” Bill said. “It could be quick.”
         “No way, Bill. Let’s dump the body and skip town, alright? The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
         “Yeah, I guess so,” Bill sighed.
         “Glad to hear it,” Pete said, hoisting the dead stranger over his shoulder, banging her head on the low ceiling. “Hey, did you guys know that some people actually play this with the gun pointed at their OWN heads? Crazy, huh?”
         “Oh, give me a break, Pete,” I said as we exited the room. “What kind of idiots would even consider doing that?”