He lit up a cigarette as I stared at him, confused. As I pushed over an ashtray, I found my voice.
"You want a rolling bet on the Grand International Hurdles for forty...?"
"Years. I'll pick a number for each race, give me even odds each time, then in forty years I'll come back to what, half a trillion dollars? If I start with fifty cents?"
I looked at my actuary, who was ambivalent, and my advertising guy, who was ecstatic.
"Deal."
I don't know who was more upset by his loss 5 races in, him or my advertising guy.
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