The hots from Glenn Courley’s cigarette glows in the patio ashtray. As if to accent his seriousness about the wager, he extinguishes the ember with his thumb. Barbie Selke was just getting ready to grab the thing, before the glowing butt of the Marlboro blew into the rawhide colored tall grass of the parched valley.
Thirty days in the Vayaclannin Cave system, one bottle of water to start, clothes on your back, one Bowie knife.
Wear a GPS so youse can’t cheat.
Teddy Polk smiled as he took the bet. Easiest, most enjoyable 5000 bucks he would ever make. There would be some bug eating involved, some chilly nights, but then he’d be plenty warm under the blanket of all those bills.
It was less pleasant to shake Glenn Courley’s sweaty oven mitt of a hand than it would be to eat grasshopper lunch ten, fifteen times.
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