The Bet

It was but a little white lie. Nothing more. He had to convince the woman at the bar that he, Tom Suthers, was for sale. Not just for sale, but a good purchase to go home with. This was no easy task, as he was a mumbling fumbling fool. The suit he wore was over-sized, and it sagged on his under-sized frame. Thick horn rimmed glasses, and pin stripe suit, meant well, but the pants belted up two buttons higher then they should have been gave him a look straight out of the fifties; and not the cool, smooth, James Dean, Elvis Presley look, but something closer to the father off of "Honey I Shrunk the Kids."

She had noticed him staring at her for some time. Smiling politely, she nodded in his direction and turned back her attention to the bar. He checked his breath, smoothed down his hair, and began his approach. She eyed him up and down as he approached, the bar wasn't exactly full, he happened to be the only other patron, so it was obvious his intentions. She took a deep breath, readying herself for the transaction about to take place.

Now was the big moment. His heart beat was racing, the sweat gathering on his forehead began to bead up and fall down the sides of his face. He was ready for this, taking a few more steps he was next to the woman.

“May I –“

“No, but thank you.”

A smile began to form on his face. That was his little secret, he didn’t want to buy this woman a drink, he wanted to see her reaction. He turned around and headed out the door to his wife standing outside, he had never been so happy to lose a bet.