“What the heck is going on over there?” Buchanan asked. His neighbors in apartment 2C were being much louder than usual.
“Ten bucks says it’s a lively discussion about a rerun of Iron Chef,” his roommate, Garfield, suggested.
“Ten?” The third roommate, Monroe, was interested. He sat his slice of pizza momentarily back in the box on the living room table.
“On something that specific? You both are betting ten dollars on a group of guys we’ve never actually met, watching a rerun of Iron Chef and having a argument about it?” Buchanan needed elaboration.
“Yes,” the others replied in unison.
Buchanan shrugged. “Add five if its the potato episode.”
“I’ll go ask,” Monroe said as he stood and went to visit.
A moment later he returned, pale in the face, eyes wide and unblinking. He moved quickly from door to chair and sat without a word, just slightly shaking his head back and forth.
“What the heck was going on in 2c?” Buchanan asked, leaning toward his shocked roommate.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Every one give $15 to the person on your right. We were all a little right. Lotta wrong, but a little right. Whole lotta’ wrong.”
“All a little right? What does that mean?” Garfield asked.
“Nope. Not engaging, Gary.” Monroe picked up the pizza box and went to his room.