The game.

Stan Smith was worried. He had a lot riding on this game, his pride, his wallet and his name.

He’d been practicing, using weights to strengthen his right arm and finger exercises to keep his fingers supple.

Last week at the pub, a drunken Stan, had wagered he could beat his mate, Bert Brown, with one hand tied behind his back. The loser had to buy the spectators a beer, then stand on the bar naked and sing Rule Britannia.

The crowd held their breath, this was Stan’s chance, he had one dart left to throw for the game.

Bullseye!