Part of the old Soviet Bloc

You look frantically around you for anything that could make you look less nervous at this point. Something tells you this guy can smell fear. He's a dog, of course he can smell fear. He can smell the hamburger and fries you finished two hours ago, and that makes you even more nervous. You reach for a magazine to make you look more casual; pulling down a stack of periodicals you find your self reading a Glamour article on how to make yourself more appealing to men. You begin sneezing irradically, and then the man/dog/thing rips your magazine right out of your hands. With eyes that could stab through kevlar, he coldly utters in broken english. "Do you whant, nearvous? I can geeve you nearvous." You don't know what he is saying. "heave, ...um.. me. heave me, near us?.." you say. "YOU WHANT PLAY, PLAY YOU GEET! LETS PLAY!" He pulls your six shooter out and spins the barrel frantically. "TAHKE DIS, YOU PLAY WITH SHANZIK NOW!" "I don't.. wwanna.. " "YOU PLAY NOW!" His face morphs slightly into a canine form as he lashes out at you. Let's face it, you are a gambling man, but this isn't your type of gamble. 1 in 6 chance of dying, with a disproportionate chance of dying if this mad man/dog/thing wants me to keep playing, and the chances that he's bluffing and the bullet isn't in this gun, but you don't read him to be that kind of .. being, and the documented events of bullets not firing perhaps.. "PULL IT NOW!" Click.

You lay there motionless on the floor. "Get UP!" says your reluctant guest. "There ees No BULLET! Look No Bullet!"

You get up and see him about to pull the trigger, and you realize there is a bullet in that chamber.

"Um ah,..! Shanzik!"

"YEES?"

Written by Murrcatt

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