The Fortune is Right

It was a cold winter night and Mr Anthony snoozed off, or at least he thought he did. He was woken up by an off voice announcing “And welcome back to The Fortune is Right and here’s your host once more”.  Mr Anthony saw himself amidst an audience. He was beholding a very fancy looking show host, black suit and a microphone in his skeleton fingers. Death was the host and he was very good at it too.

‘So who’s going to be our next contester?’ Death asked the announcer.

‘Well, Death, the next lucky contester, is seated in 12f, Mr Anthony Jones, from Manchester.’

Anthony still thought he was dreaming, for when he noticed he was already walking down to meet the other contesters. He didn’t have control. He just moved. Death approached him, elbow on Anthony’s answering stand.

‘Tell us more about yourself.’ Anthony was going to say something, but was interrupted by Death, ‘That’s great! And now for the question. Are you ready?’ The two elderly women standing next to Anthony, nodded and he mimic them.

‘How many people died in 1348 through 1350 thanks to the Black Plague?’ Death said these last words with disdain, ‘To whom I may thank two full of years of non-stopping work,’ he added, apparently still mad at his sister, after seven centuries.

‘Seventy million,’ one of the woman said full of confidence.

‘How many did she said?’ the other woman asked. Looking at what appeared to be the last place where Death spoke.

‘Over here Mrs Gordon.’ She shifted her eyes, or better, she shifted her thick glasses towards Death voice.

‘She said seventy million. What’s your answer?’

‘A hundred million.’ It was both a statement and a question at the same time.

‘Very well, Mr Anthony, what’s your call?’

‘One hundred million and one,’ he said, empathizing  the last number leading to two angry women staring at him.

A bell rang. ‘The correct number is 157 824 233. Mr Anthony is the winner. Congratulations!’

If staring could kill, Mr Anthony would still be alive, for Mrs Gordon was angrily staring at a cameraman, thinking he was Anthony.

Death embraced Anthony and led him to the middle of the show.

‘So, Mike, what can Mr Anthony win if he answers the next question right?’

‘He can win this incredible heater. Very portable, class A energy. A beauty.’

Anthony smiled, for his heater had broken down that very same day.

‘For the opportunity to win this beauty, please answer us, which War caused more victims? The first Crusade or the sixth Crusade?’

‘Hmm…’ Anthony was still thinking when Death started talking.

‘That’s right! With well over fifty thousand people dead. Thanks a lot War, for that remarkable époque, where one couldn’t take a day off.’ He remarked bitterly.

‘I won?’

‘Yes you did Mr Anthony and now you have a chance to spin… THE… WHEEL… OF FORTUNE!’ The term bellowed in the studio, everyone in the audience repeated it alongside Death. Once again, Death embraced him, and Death and Anthony were joined by two other contestants.  A very skinny ill looking man and an elderly woman.

‘Please don’t forget, the wheel has got to do a full turn,’ Death said.

The first one to try was the elderly woman.  The wheel stopped at a heart symbol.

‘Not bad, the good old heart attack. Care to spin again?’ the woman didn’t get a chance to answer and Death continued, ‘thought so. Now Mr Fonseca, please spin that WHEEL! Again the word boomed in the studio. The frail man tried to, but the wheel never made a full turn and kept landing on the same symbol, tiny cylinders like figures. ‘Well, I guess that’s it. It’s Mr Anthony’s turn now,’ Death announced, while a very sick Mr Fonseca coughed up some blood. Anthony turned the wheel as hard as he could and it ended up in a donkey figure.

‘Oh, you hit the jackpot Mr Anthony, stupidity! Humanity’s greatest enemy. That’s better than heart attack, you get to play in the final game.  One of the show’s assistant, a beautiful blonde girl approached Anthony.

‘Would you be a dear and take him to see what he could win.’ Death said to her assistant. She smiled and grabbed Mr Anthony and led him to a giant novelty button, next to a big screen with the squares flashing with the words “Hell”, “Heaven” and “Limbo”.

‘Press it,’ she said, almost commanding it. And so he did, the flashing moved more rapidly and finally came to a halt in one of the “Limbo” squares.

‘Limbo has a nice weather this time of the year,’ said Death, ‘and you’ll get to go with Charon,’ pointing to his assistant.

‘Sharon?’ Anthony asked, smiling.

‘No, my dear, my name is Charon.’ She smiled while passing her fingers through his face.