takes off his gloves, pulls a wooden pipe out of his front shirt pocket, and smiles. “Let’s smoke, brother.”
Divey stuffs the plastic gun into the waistband of his jeans and hops out onto the pavement.
“ Hey there, Pete . . . no luck I see,” Divey says as he lights his pipe.
“ No . . . no luck.” Pete takes a long draw from his fag and exhales for what seems like an entire minute. Reynold hops out of the van, his cigarette already lit.
“ Well, you know what that means . . .” Divey removes the light gun from his beltline. “We zap for it.”
“ You know, I was thinking, we could always wait until the next town to do this. I mean, shit, we still have a couple days worth of rations. We may not have to do this at all.”
“ That’s what you said in the last town. And the town before that. Things gotta change ’ere, Petey boy. We’ve gotta stay ahead of the game. Right now, we’re eating up all of our profit— literally . We’re supposed to sell our burritos, not eat them. And now with the shortage of meat, well . . . one of us just has to go.” Divey pulls a long black cord from the bottom of the gun and plugs it into an electric generator sitting on the pavement behind the van. “This is the only fair way to choose which one of us has to make that sacrifice.”
“ Okay, boss. You’re right.” Pete bites his upper lip. “But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go first.” He takes one final draw from his cigarette before stomping it out with his boot. Reynold’s mouth drops open. His cigarette burns a hole in his shirt as it falls to the ground.
“ Wait, why should he get to be the one who chooses?” says Reynold, batting the ashes off his shirt. “Yeah, you know, I think I want to be the one who goes first.” He smiles smugly at Pete and puts another cigarette up to his lips, lighting the wrong end by mistake and inhaling a lungful of torched filter. He hunches over and begins to cough. “Shit, that was me last ciggy.”
“ Well, I’ll tell ya what, princess,” Pete says with a smirk, “why don’t you take out that shiny lil’ 500 yen piece you got in your pocket and let’s have us a good old-fashioned coin toss. Winner goes first, loser last, and boss here will go second. How’s about it?”
Reynold looks over at Divey, but Divey shies his eyes away and says, “Sounds like a plan, Pete, but Reynold gets to call it. Fair?”
“ Fair,” Pete replies.
“ Rey, coin please?”
Reynold digs into his pocket and hands the coin over to Divey. “You sure about this?” he whispers.
“ It doesn’t matter what I think, brother, it’s up to fate. All of this is by chance, isn’t it? Whether or not you win this facking coin toss, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve lost the game. The gun could still go off on any of us at any moment.” Divey winks. Reynold takes a deep breath and nods, trusting that his brother knows what he is doing. Divey places the coin on top of his fist. “Call it in the air.”
He flips the coin.
“ Heads.”
The coin flickers under the streetlight and lands in Divey’s palm. He balls his fist around it. An unpleasant stench fills the air—it smells like burnt tire rubber.
“ For fack’s sake, tell us what it is!” yells Reynold.
“ Wait a second, what the hell is that smell?” says Divey.
The generator begins to crackle and smoke.
“ Shit, Rey, you set the generator down in a facking rain puddle!” yells Divey.
“ Well, where else was I supposed to have put it? Everywhere is a facking rain puddle!”
“ Well now the generator isn’t going to work properly, you dolt!”
Pete’s eyes narrow like two coin-slots. “Are you both fucking putting me on? That generator has been broken for ages. You know that. That’s the whole reason why we’re using the fucking thing, because it’s impossible to know when it
Divey stuffs the plastic gun into the waistband of his jeans and hops out onto the pavement.
“ Hey there, Pete . . . no luck I see,” Divey says as he lights his pipe.
“ No . . . no luck.” Pete takes a long draw from his fag and exhales for what seems like an entire minute. Reynold hops out of the van, his cigarette already lit.
“ Well, you know what that means . . .” Divey removes the light gun from his beltline. “We zap for it.”
“ You know, I was thinking, we could always wait until the next town to do this. I mean, shit, we still have a couple days worth of rations. We may not have to do this at all.”
“ That’s what you said in the last town. And the town before that. Things gotta change ’ere, Petey boy. We’ve gotta stay ahead of the game. Right now, we’re eating up all of our profit— literally . We’re supposed to sell our burritos, not eat them. And now with the shortage of meat, well . . . one of us just has to go.” Divey pulls a long black cord from the bottom of the gun and plugs it into an electric generator sitting on the pavement behind the van. “This is the only fair way to choose which one of us has to make that sacrifice.”
“ Okay, boss. You’re right.” Pete bites his upper lip. “But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go first.” He takes one final draw from his cigarette before stomping it out with his boot. Reynold’s mouth drops open. His cigarette burns a hole in his shirt as it falls to the ground.
“ Wait, why should he get to be the one who chooses?” says Reynold, batting the ashes off his shirt. “Yeah, you know, I think I want to be the one who goes first.” He smiles smugly at Pete and puts another cigarette up to his lips, lighting the wrong end by mistake and inhaling a lungful of torched filter. He hunches over and begins to cough. “Shit, that was me last ciggy.”
“ Well, I’ll tell ya what, princess,” Pete says with a smirk, “why don’t you take out that shiny lil’ 500 yen piece you got in your pocket and let’s have us a good old-fashioned coin toss. Winner goes first, loser last, and boss here will go second. How’s about it?”
Reynold looks over at Divey, but Divey shies his eyes away and says, “Sounds like a plan, Pete, but Reynold gets to call it. Fair?”
“ Fair,” Pete replies.
“ Rey, coin please?”
Reynold digs into his pocket and hands the coin over to Divey. “You sure about this?” he whispers.
“ It doesn’t matter what I think, brother, it’s up to fate. All of this is by chance, isn’t it? Whether or not you win this facking coin toss, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve lost the game. The gun could still go off on any of us at any moment.” Divey winks. Reynold takes a deep breath and nods, trusting that his brother knows what he is doing. Divey places the coin on top of his fist. “Call it in the air.”
He flips the coin.
“ Heads.”
The coin flickers under the streetlight and lands in Divey’s palm. He balls his fist around it. An unpleasant stench fills the air—it smells like burnt tire rubber.
“ For fack’s sake, tell us what it is!” yells Reynold.
“ Wait a second, what the hell is that smell?” says Divey.
The generator begins to crackle and smoke.
“ Shit, Rey, you set the generator down in a facking rain puddle!” yells Divey.
“ Well, where else was I supposed to have put it? Everywhere is a facking rain puddle!”
“ Well now the generator isn’t going to work properly, you dolt!”
Pete’s eyes narrow like two coin-slots. “Are you both fucking putting me on? That generator has been broken for ages. You know that. That’s the whole reason why we’re using the fucking thing, because it’s impossible to know when it
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