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The Boys Talk Terrible Turkey Just Before Last Call
“It’s not the worst idea,” says Bob, who is a connoisseur of bad ideas. Five marriages, four that are toast, and the current one headed for the dumpster.
That takes expertise.
“That’s what I was thinkin’, “ says Flannigan, a deeper thinker but still in need of brain boundaries.
“Look, fellas,” I chime in. I am the youngest and likely the wisest of the four of us. “None of us have planned our exit strategy all that well. Yeah, we have pensions but what will that do. Keep us loitering about like craggy old duffers, unable to travel, enjoy the finer things. Even before Covid, we weren’t going anywhere. Still, it’s pretty radical.“
“Exactly,” says Dendoff, whose idea it is. “Radical. All of us…going in the tank slowly. Drowning in the sea of time. But what if three of us each got a big boost of cash, what if…?”
“Radical…and bloody risky. And, I have to say, if I draw the hangman’s card, I might just no do it.”
Dendoff rises up from the table, brewski in hand, and takes a big swallow. “Right, you might hesitate. We all might. It’s up to the rest of us to hold true. We all make out our wills to the other three. Then it needs to look like murder. That’s the job of the other there. Men, the happiness of three and the only cost is the end of this miserable existence for the fourth. A fair exchange.”
Slick, the bartender yells out, “Okay maties, Time’s up.”
“It surely is,” echoes Dendoff. “It surely is.”