Parody of life

"Cheers" they said amidst voluptuous rattled roars, and the 2 most jaded men in the room gulped the vodka in a manner only they understood,straight to the throat. They gazed into each others eyes;their inner despondency masked by an outward presumptuous exterior. The vodka was inordinately outstanding, unblended and unscathed. Pure like a virgin, they thought. But incidentally, and tragically,they both knew,it might have been their last drink.
At the age of 17, Bob Marlo had decided that no dainty office job could do justice to his burning desire to live free-spiritedly. He had even done 6 months time for stealing a car and assaulting a cop. He made no friends, lived in a tacky attic in the suburbs, and had slept with 42 women in two years. He always loved to show off the scars on his forehead which was the result of an ill-fated mountain climbing expedition.
Kris Mantle was raised in a sophisticated and fastidious wealthy family who dreamt of raising a lawyer, and rub shoulders with the who's who of society. What they were not aware of,was the rebellion spirit that Kris possessed, a tinge of infamy daredevilry and a load of fire. Few days after he had turned 17, he brought home a guest for dinner, Katherine,and announced his love for her at the dinner table. His family vehemently deplored of it.So, he ran away from home and spent the night in communion with his fiance, and basking in his new found freedom. 4 months later, they were separated, with little remorse.

Everyone in the bar burst into deafening cheers. Both had apparently survived. There were 12 more shots of vodka on the dilapidated table. One of them contained 2 ml of Botalinium,one of the deadliest poisons known. The rules were simple. Each takes a shot. One spills his guts. The other walks away with 500 grand. If someone backs out midway, the other gets all of it.
Bob lit a cigarette.He made headway for small talk.
"You look like a decent man who's got a family waiting. Serves them right, eh?"
"Na, I killed them 10 years ago" said Kris, lighting a cigarette.Everyone applauded.
"The first one's the hardest. You get past the first shot, you begin to think 'maybe you can fool death'. You won't even have time to realise that you were wrong."
People started causing a raucous. They demanded another shot.
Bob raised his glass "May the best man win". Both shot vodka and vouched for the others death.Both stayed alive.Everyone cheered.Bob and Kris looked like nervous wrecks.4 more to go.The crowd was quietened.
"What you said is bullshit. The best man may not win. That's the beauty of the whole deal."said Bob with conviction.
"No. That's what you think. The best man wins everywhere. Luck is for the faint-hearted." Kris retorted.
Bob replied "No. Lucky is when the lesser man wins. But you only hope for the better man to win.Because everyone wants vindication and justice. We want it fair and square, for the world to work like an algorithm. I'm glad it does not work that way. One of the reasons you and me are seated face to face today is the lack of justice."
"Perhaps..So you think you can handle 1 more shot?" Kris asked hoping for a no for an answer.
Both raised their glasses.
"And yes. May the best man win."
Both shot. They looked at each other. They were panting, gasping for breath. Kris looked
into Bob's eyes and saw how lucky Bob felt to be alive. He felt the same.
"Lucky to be alive, eh? 2 more to go. You wanna go on?" asked Kris.
Bob sensed fear in Kris. He sensed a lot of uncertainty and a feeling of pessimism.He felt superior.Bob had always believed that laws of nature operate on how you perceive and negotiate what life offers you. He had believed that confidence inspires nature to conspire for you. And now,he sensed cynicism and pessimism in Kris. He had sniffed it. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of invincibility.
"This just feels like poker, ain't it? You flinch, you're out." said Bob.
" You don't have your brains on the table at the end of it in poker, do you? And no bluffing either. But the chances of dying or staying alive remain a constant, no matter what. It is simply your fate.Your charm and wits are of no value."
"You decide your fate, brother. I know I'm walking out with half a million. And you'll see how it is done. I'm in for the next shot." announced Bob.
Kris couldn't undermine his fear of death. His whole life, flashed before his eyes. An innate feeling of an irrevocable loss seemed to hit him in his face. He pondered upon all of his sins and pleasures. He felt like a dying man. He looked up at Bob. He looked at a man with half a million dollars.
He despairingly said " I'm in."
Bob looked up at Kris and showed inexplicable surprise. He thought he had him. Not to be. He was certain the odds were for him. He was not giving up.
"Say your prayers my friend. This place ain't big enough for the both of us."
"Cheers" they said in unison. One feebly, the other almost nonchalantly.
They shot.Kris felt extremely dizzy. His whole world revolved around him like typhoon had ruptured him.Immediately Kris's inner self felt a burning desire to live, not to let probability take a chance to decide on his life. He felt like he had more to offer to his and others' life. He spit out the vodka and in abrupt and pathetic coughs yelled out " You win, my friend. I'm out."
But,as soon as he looked up, he saw Bob Marley collapse to the floor, in pain, moaning, squealing,spilling his guts out. Bob fell on the stack of cash on the table, and enjoyed his 20 seconds of wealth, and let one melancholic cry of despair and gave in.
Kris never really regretted his decision. He was not rich, but he didn't go out of that bar not being taught a lesson or two in life.Bob himself had an algorithm to life, which stated that there was no algorithm. Every man thinks that he has algorithm to life figured out. They're always flawed. Some, like Kris realise that. Others like Bob, figure it out in the last 30 seconds of their life. 47 years later on his deathbed, Kris was to remember this fateful night and grimaced at the parody of life.