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My Gambling Problem

Several weeks ago, when the football season was young and fresh and I was feeling optimistic about the Broncos, I made a friendly, impetuous wager with my friend Shayne, from Texas. She is a Houston Texans fan. We discovered that the Broncos and Texans would meet on November 7th, 2004 at Invesco Field, which was yesterday.

If the Broncos won, Shayne agreed to send me some sort of yummy goodie that is made in Texas. If the Broncos won, I would do the same, except I would chose something that represents Colorado.

I had a difficult time thinking of a food that represents Colorado. The first possibility that sprung to mind were Rocky Mountain Oysters, which are deep-fried bull testicles. But they don’t seem like the kind of thing that would hold up in the mail very well. Plus, Shayne was to be rewarded for having the superior football team, not punished. So I settled on Enstrom’s Almond Toffee, which is made in my hometown of Grand Junction. It is fabulous, fabulous, fabulous toffee, and I demand a box from Santa Claus each and every Christmas.

Shayne, hailing from Texas, had any number of choices to offer me for our wager. Texas is famous for barbeque, chili, Tex-Mex food, slabs of beef, pecans, and much more. Being wise, she decided to offer this pie instead of a big fat burrito. It’s that pesky shipping problem, again. Here is the link to the pie. You will be stunned:

As the game approached, I decided to tell Lee about my wager. He said that I should go ahead and ship the box of toffee to Shayne before the game even began. He had a dismal outlook, as did I, about the game. The Broncos had lost the last couple of games, were riddled with injuries, and were generally looking like a bunch of third-string third-graders.

It was extremely surprising when the Broncos beat the Texans 31 to 13.

We had the game on in the background, and I have to admit with each score visions of that apple pie grew more and more definitive, to the point that I could practically taste it. But then something odd happened, when the final whistle blew and I knew that my 6 pound apple pie was on the way…I felt bad about it!

If Shayne won the bet, I would think nothing of sending the toffee to her and hearing back about how it rocks. But I felt strange about collecting on my bet—-guilty and wanting to explain it away, like “The Broncos had the homefield advantage” or “It’s the altitude!”, just like the game-announcers always claim, much to the annoyance of those of us who live here. We get along just great with little oxygen–gasp, cough, gasp, wheeze

This morning, Shayne assured me that it was okay. She is gracious and a very good sport. The pie is already on it’s way, no doubt weighing down the postal planes and trucks. Look for me in the next day or two, camped out by my mailbox with fork in hand and a carton of vanilla ice cream tucked under my arm.

The next Bronco’s game is November 21st in New Orleans (they have a bye next week). I wonder if I could find anyone to swap bull testicles for shrimp creole? This could get addicting!

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