COMPETITION

The strange bet

Jaspistos

I. n Competition No. 1557 you were in- vited to write a short story of 750-800 Words with the above title.

'A teenage boy in Coventry, Rhode Island, won a £7 bet at a party by biting off the head of a gerbil,' so I am told by The Sporting Life Book of Amazing Bets. A Curious stake for a curious feat. The bets in Your stories were usually more banal, but I was touched by the number of entries (many from unfamiliar names), which in- volved me in reading, in terms of word- count, the equivalent of a novel over the weekend. My short list boiled down to five. On a third reading, Noel Petty, Basil Ransome-Davies and Laurence Fowler fell by the track side, leaving Clare Vickers and Paul Patrick McShane still on their feet. McShane is adjudged the winner, by a Cheshire Cat's whisker, in a literally stag- gering `potograph' finish! We are all deeply grateful to the anonymous donor of the Special LEM prize.

'Wait!' called Humpty Dumpty to Alice from on top of his wall. 'I wish to ask you a question of some gravity, so your ears will have to be quick to catch what I say before it hits the ground. Which comes first — the chicken or the egg?'

The chicken!' Alice answered hastily. Hump- ty Dumpty giggled so hard and long his eyes filled with albumen.

'You are a stupid girl!' he cried. 'It's the egg, of course.'

'Stuff and nonsense!' protested Alice and stamped her foot in exasperation but then had to look for some grass on which to wipe her shoe. Both of them continued squabbling until they noticed the Cheshire Cat hovering above them.

'My, my,' said the Cat. 'What a fuss! But we have a solution to this paradox over in Wonder- land. Would both of you be willing to bet on the outcome of your argument?'

'Of course!' exclaimed Humpty Dumpty and Alice in perfect unison, after a few minutes' rehearsal.

'It's agreed then,' said the sly Cat, 'but you will both need something of value to risk on the wager.' 'I have my insurance policy!' shouted Humpty Dumpty, waving a certificate with King's Horses & King's Men Insurance Corp. printed in gold letters across the top. Alice hesitated.

'I suppose I could chance some of the rather revealing nude portraits of me, photographed by the Reverend Dodgson A spasm of choking coughs almost toppled Humpty Dumpty off his perch. The Cheshire Cat's tongue lolled out of its mouth while it gave off a sort of grunting purr.

'Good — how shall we decide the question,' panted Humpty Dumpty hopefully, 'of which comes first, the chicken or the egg?'

'Why,' replied the Cat, 'we shall race them of course! I've arranged everything. Look! Here comes the race steward now, escorting the contestants.' The Dodo came stumbling through the forest. In its beak was a spoon, on which sat a plump chicken.

'Where's the egg?' asked Alice. The Dodo removed the clucking chicken from the spoon, leaving an extremely fresh egg balancing on it. Cautiously, the Dodo took the egg and put it down beside the hen.

Soon all manner of Looking Glass and Wonderland creatures emerged from the forest to lay bets with the Cheshire Cat, the self- appointed bookmaker. The White Rabbit took up position as official timekeeper. Everyone searched for the Mad Hatter, who had been awarded the catering concession, until the crash of breaking chinaware was heard in the forest nearby. A trumpet fanfare sounded. The Queen of Hearts strode through the crowd — all now trembling and holding their heads — while the King ran alongside trying to keep up. A herald announced: 'Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts, Official Starter for the inaugural Salmonella Stakes between the chicken and the egg.'

'We couldn't get the ex-junior health minister to start the race so we thought the Queen was the next best choice,' the Cat confided to Alice in what can only be described as a heavy tone of anachronism.

'Why's that?' asked Alice.

'The Queen is the only other woman I know who can open her mouth with the result that in less than thirty words thousands get the chop!' hissed the Cat.

The Queen stalked into the centre of the race course, crushing the egg as she did so. She then bellowed out 'GO!' with such force that the chicken took fright and fell down dead beside the egg.

'It's going to be a photo-finish for me to judge!' cried the King in delight. The March Hare pointed a tea-pot at the contestants, then exposed them in the usual way by lifting the lid. The Dormouse could be seen inside the pot, sloshing around in processing fluid. A tea-cosy was placed over the pot for a timed period and then the Dormouse, groggy with the fumes, handed a Polaroid snap to the King.

'Well, which came first?' demanded the Queen. The King concentrated on the slowly developing print.

'Both the chicken and the egg came out at the same time — I declare the result is drawn!' proclaimed the King.

`No! 'Twas POTographed ...' mumbled the Dormouse.

Everyone groaned, for a draw meant they had lost their money to the Cat. In the pandemo- nium which followed, Alice caught sight of the Dormouse having a swig of fixer solution and giving an uncharacteristically intimate wink to the Cheshire Cat — before the latter faded from sight, leaving behind a bigger grin than usual.

(Paul Patrick McShane)