Teach
07-13-2008, 09:42 PM
"I want to bet! I wanna make one more bet. One more." "My Son, you’ve already made too many bets. But now, in the hereafter, you still have this need to make yet one more bet. Hasn’t your thousands and thousands of bets – over the years – satisfied you, My Son? "No, I still have this craving. This urge. This desire. It burns deep inside me."
"I want to make one more bet."
"My Son, are you sure you’re not confusing your betting urges with sex?" "Yes, on earth, sex was never a sure thing. There were deals. Pleading. In fact, my friend "Bucko" used to say: ‘Italian foreplay: five hours of begging!’ But the track. I could always make bets at the track. It was instant gratification."
"What track would you like to go to? If I had my choice, it would be The Meadowlands in New Jersey, Exit 17 W. No need to take a car. I can have you there in moments."
"Oh, how beautiful? Everything is as I remembered it. There are still weeds over there in Secaucus. But wait. What’s this? Why is there a tall plexi-glass wall separating the people from the horses and drivers? Speaking of people,
where are they? No one's out on the apron. No one's in the clubhouse or grandstand."
"Well, My Son, you’ve been out of circulation for awhile. It seems that this enterprising, evil-genius, degenerate teacher and his friend hatched a plan that changed pari-mutuel wagering, forever." "What did they do?" "They developed this invisible ray. It was so small it could easily be concealed in the palm of one’s hand. As the horses paraded by the grandstand, this teacher and his friend – they seemed to be innocently gesturing to one another – were in fact aiming their invisible rays at two or three horses in the post parade. Mind you, this had no long-lasting ill effect on the animal. The ray produced just a short-term lethargy."
"My Son, strange things were beginning to happen at the track. Odds-on favorites were running out. Trifecta and superfecta payoffs were enormous. Authorities became suspicious. Security was everywhere. That's when they built this plexi-glass "wall." Later, they banned people from the track. You could only bet at home with your PC, or from a remote location. No, you can't make one more bet, My Son, at least not here."
"Dear, dear, wake up! You’ve got to drive your grandson to pre-school. Hurry up, you’ve only got fifteen minutes before you’ll have to pick him up."
"I want to make one more bet."
"My Son, are you sure you’re not confusing your betting urges with sex?" "Yes, on earth, sex was never a sure thing. There were deals. Pleading. In fact, my friend "Bucko" used to say: ‘Italian foreplay: five hours of begging!’ But the track. I could always make bets at the track. It was instant gratification."
"What track would you like to go to? If I had my choice, it would be The Meadowlands in New Jersey, Exit 17 W. No need to take a car. I can have you there in moments."
"Oh, how beautiful? Everything is as I remembered it. There are still weeds over there in Secaucus. But wait. What’s this? Why is there a tall plexi-glass wall separating the people from the horses and drivers? Speaking of people,
where are they? No one's out on the apron. No one's in the clubhouse or grandstand."
"Well, My Son, you’ve been out of circulation for awhile. It seems that this enterprising, evil-genius, degenerate teacher and his friend hatched a plan that changed pari-mutuel wagering, forever." "What did they do?" "They developed this invisible ray. It was so small it could easily be concealed in the palm of one’s hand. As the horses paraded by the grandstand, this teacher and his friend – they seemed to be innocently gesturing to one another – were in fact aiming their invisible rays at two or three horses in the post parade. Mind you, this had no long-lasting ill effect on the animal. The ray produced just a short-term lethargy."
"My Son, strange things were beginning to happen at the track. Odds-on favorites were running out. Trifecta and superfecta payoffs were enormous. Authorities became suspicious. Security was everywhere. That's when they built this plexi-glass "wall." Later, they banned people from the track. You could only bet at home with your PC, or from a remote location. No, you can't make one more bet, My Son, at least not here."
"Dear, dear, wake up! You’ve got to drive your grandson to pre-school. Hurry up, you’ve only got fifteen minutes before you’ll have to pick him up."