Disclaimer: Not mine
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"No." said Mark. He didn't even need to think abut the stupid question Roger had asked him before responding.
"Why!" Roger persisted. He knew he could manipulate Mark. It was one of his many talents.
"Because it's a stupid bet!" Mark hated bets. Especially stupid bets.
"No it's not! Come on Mark! Just one! Please?" The more he said it, the more Roger realized that it really WAS a stupid bet. He bet Mark that he couldn't pick up one crazy-looking girl at the club they were at. The stakes were $200. Hey, a bohemian can dream, can't he?

"For the millionth time, NO, Roger! And you can forget about it if you think I'm gonna pay you $200. I don't have it. I don't even have $2 to give you "
"Forget about the money, Marky! I just wanna see you do it"
"Don't call me Marky"
"Marky ... "
"Roger come on"
"Okay, how does this sound I'll pay you, just to see you do it"
"Fine." He didn't even bother asking how much. Anything would be better than what he had now. Which was pretty much nothing.

"Okay ..." Roger said again, scanning the crowded club for someone who just had LOONY written across their forehead.
"There." He said simply, pointing to a tall, wavy-haired girl. She looked crazy enough.
"I can't believe I'm doing this ..."

Mark walked up to the girl, who introduced herself as Maureen Johnson. She didn't act as strange as Roger had hoped. Until Mark asked her about her career. She was a "performance artist" and a bit of a protester. Once she got started talking, nothing would stop her. Mark was stuck.

"Want something to drink?" He asked. It was lame, but the only thing he could think of. He didn't usually get to pick up many girls. Or many crazy girls, at the least.
"Sounds good." Mark told her to wait for him. He walked up to the bar and found Roger to ask him what he should do.

"Take her home"
"No way"
"Come on! it's part of the deal"
"Fine." Mark said once again. He seemed to be saying that to Roger a lot lately.

He got the drinks and returned to Maureen.

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