Betting Bulliot

Earlier this term Jubb and I got into an argument, a trivial one about whether or not the phrase "exploded systems" is in the book Frankenstein. That was our first bet.

I was, for those of you not familiar with the book, victorious. I was spared the gastrointestinal indignity of eating a pound of sunflower seeds in one sitting.

Jubb was forced to buy himself some boxers, like all the rest of us did in high school, if not earlier.

Today, I was sitting at the lunch table with Jubb when, once again, the conversation somehow turned to matters pointless and literary.

Did Piers Anthony or P.K. Dick write the book or short story on which the movie Total Recall is based? Both of us were sure of our answers, both of us willing to make a bet. We decided and shook on it.

I won and Jubb, who'd failed to remember that he'd read a mere novelization of the movie, once again took the fall.

Because I won, I don't have to wear Freshman Matt's old goatee (which Jubb, for whatever reason, owns) at the next party.

Instead, Jubb will be doing a Guinness challenge (which, as I decided beforehand, means no water and no food, just the Guinness I provide) for three days.

This will happen sometime next term, it seems. From now on, I'm setting time limits on my bets. Jubb, for his part, swears he'll never make a book-related bet with me again.

I like making crazy bets with Jubb, because it makes me feel impulsive and I haven't lost yet. But there are problems with this habit beyond the possibility of humiliation and loss.

Jubb, while always honoring the rules of a given bet, never seems to respect its spirit. He'll have to be watched. You can trust that in the future my bets will be phrased like wishes to a powerful yet malicious genie.

Also, he pummeled me a bit (our gigantic novelty hammer is nothing but trouble) once it became clear that he'd lost. He's not a sore loser, but Jubb can certainly be a violent one.