Just then he conceived a dare for himself. The proper way to put it looked cross-eyed back at him and winked. There it sat: the comic adjudicator from hell—the devil—with its fat gut and perfect whiskers and horns. Superintending pointless dares in Indian restaurants everywhere. Stewing after the pointless fallout. Utterly hysterical for more to come, for eternity. Harvey deliberated. He was just drunk enough on beer to give a wink back. He did so and then emptied the remainder of his drink with a gulp. “I dare myself to get a girl tonight. Or else go abstinent for a good solid pig’s lifetime.”
By Peter Clarke.