He’d said, “If you make enough, you’re buying dinner.”
“You know I always do.” Whenever I shoot pool in a short skirt—commando—I win. One guy after another will focus on lagging the cue ball to where I’ll have to bend over the table or stretch to make my shot, never worrying about making their own shot. It’s hilarious. “Do I also get to pick my prize?”
“Sure.”
Now, fifty bucks up, he asked what I wanted for dinner; I let him choose. “But for my prize, I pick Marc; he had the best bulge. You go ask him.”
