Round My Apartment Without A Fridge

"Sure, sure," I said impatiently. I was certain I'd win the bet. "Whatever you want. If you win, you can have anything. Just name it."

"I want you to put your foot behind your head."

"What? I haven't done that since I was a kid. Well, sure, doesn't matter, because I won't lose."

I lost.

I'd been interviewed, then a few days later a total stranger had sent me a list of questions. And there it was in the third line. "I want to be a writer."

"She'll write back and after a few more inquiries will ask me how to get published. Like I have any idea!"

Person X--the other person involved in this bet--said this time it was different... he reckoned it was a one-off and I'd write back and that would be the end of it. This led to the bet.

There's a British guy who has made a career out of making stupid bets and writing funny travel stories about the results. In one, he hitched around Ireland with a small 'fridge on a wheeled cart. In another, he played the Moldovan soccer team at tennis. In another, he aspired to have another hit song. In Albania.

I wrote back to the email writer--and she didn't try again. I'd lost the bet.

Being forced to put my foot behind my head is not worthy of a book. It's barely worthy of a blog entry, and would in fact not be worth mentioning if I could still do it. Which I can't.

It was a little funny to try though.