Lone Rat
It was a quiet
January morning and Homer Bumwell was hard at work in his palatial office. His
massive desk held four large flat-screen monitors, one tuned to CNN, the other
three focused on company business. As President and COO of YahYouBetcha, the
fastest growing online gambling operation in the U.S., he took great pleasure
in keeping track of the betting action on the company’s many platforms. With
the NCAA championship game on the horizon and the Super Bowl just a few weeks
away, the gamblers were out in force. Thank God for cloud computing and
infinite capacity, he thought. Go ahead, suckers, bet to your hearts’
content.
The monitor tuned to CNN was on the far-right side of
the desk, the sound muted, the banner at the base of the screen scrolling news that included the words “active shooter” and “Iowa.” Bumwell paid no
attention.
There was a polite knock on his door and Bettsy Lovelady,
his secretary, popped her head in. “Good morning, Mr. Bumwell. Mr. Zipper is
here to see you.”
Homer checked his Rolex. “Great, right on time. Send
him in.”
The door opened wide and Hardy Zipper, Vice President
of Business Development, walked briskly into the office, his right hand
extended to shake hands with the boss. “Mr. Bumwell, thanks for seeing me on
short notice. How are you, sir?”
“Never better, Hardy, never better.” They shook hands
firmly. “Let’s use my conference table so these damn monitors won’t be in the
way.” They walked to the large mahogany table surrounded by comfortable leather
chairs. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on a placid lake where the
occasional trout broke the surface to slurp up an insect. Bumwell sat at the
head of the table while Zipper took a chair to his right. “Now, what’s on your
mind, Hardy? Why did you insist on meeting first thing this morning?”
“I have an idea to run by you, sir. I think you’re
gonna love it. It has great growth potential and, quite frankly, it’s based on
a gift that just keeps giving.”
“Hmm…well you certainly have my attention, Hardy.
Let’s hear it.”
“Okay, so you know how our volume drops off after the
Super Bowl. Football fans are the best there is and they can’t get enough
action. But after the Super Bowl, things get quiet. Our revenue takes a dive.
March Madness is a nice bump, and the NBA is pretty solid, but nothing makes up
for the football action. And we all know baseball is a dud. Very few gamblers
want to bet on baseball.”
“Okay, I’m with you so far.”
“My idea could fill the gap between football seasons
and I think you are going to agree it has significant growth potential.”
“I’m listening.” Bumwell glanced at his watch. Get
to the damn point, Hardy. I don’t have all day.
“Okay, here it is. We build a site to bet on the next
mass shooting.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I kid you not, sir. We could lay out a sweet menu of
betting options for our clients. Like, how many days until the next ‘active
shooter’ event.”
“I don’t know, Hardy, they happen so often now.”
“Or covering the spread on how many victims.”
“Hmm…that’s interesting.” Homer drummed his fingers on
the conference table.
“How ’bout the shooter’s weapon of choice?”
“Nah, ninety percent of ’em use that frickin’ AR-15.”
“But we could give long odds on something other
than an AR-15. And how ’bout this—the venue. Is it a school, a church, a
synagogue, a shopping mall, a dance hall? Think of the possibilities, sir. The
list is endless.”
“I’m startin’ to feel you, Hardy. How about the
shooter’s choice of social media? Did he post his manifesto on FaceBook,
Instagram, Truth Social, or whatever—”
“And don’t forget the potential parlays, like ‘I’ll
take more than ten victims, at a school, and YouTube for social media.’”
“By God, Hardy, I think you’ve got something.”
“Our tech crew could put up a site in no time,
including an app for the iPhone junkies.” Hardy was grinning ear-to-ear.
“You got that right. But what can we call it? How
’bout ‘Lone Wolf’. These whack jobs typically act alone.”
“Sir, that’s an insult to wolves. I’m thinking we call
it ‘Lone Rat’. How does that grab you?”
“I love it! ‘Lone Rat’ it is. Okay, okay…let’s slow
down a little. We want to do this right. Let’s call a meeting of the management
team to brainstorm ideas. Then we can meet with the statisticians and
odds-makers to make sure they can handicap this shit. After that, we’ll call in
the tech geeks and get the ball rolling. Oh, and in the meantime, I’d better
run it by legal. We need to make sure any exposure won’t break the bank.” Homer
leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Hardy Zipper…”
“Yes, sir?”
“You are one hell of a guy! No wonder I pay you the
big bucks. The ball’s in your court, Zip. Now get the hell out of here and get
to work.” Zipper was halfway to the door when Bumwell jumped to his feet. “Wait
a minute! Here’s another one: they could bet the over-under on how many
senators and congressmen will offer thoughts and prayers.”
“Brilliant, Chief! I’ll add it to the list.” Zipper
closed the door behind him.
Bumwell returned to his desk. On the monitor tuned to
CNN, the Sheriff of Dallas County Iowa stood in front of a bank of microphones,
about to convene a press briefing in a town called Perry.
_____
