The Gauntlet Page #2

Holy gee!

No way you'd get me on a plane.

Not after the airline pilots

I've dated.

I wouldn't let those

a**holes drive my car.

Really?

Just last week

I was reading this article.

It talked about flying.

Said we'd all become just like cattle.

Trusting our lives

to people we don't even know.

Like pilots.

Said we do it all the time.

Then we get our heads bashed in...

...like cattle,

for being so trusting.

Did you ever think about that?

Like those pilots I dated.

They're so snockered

they don't know what button to push.

One minute you're flying

30,000 feet in the air...

...next you are splattered

all over the ground...

...somebody's dachshund

nipping at your pancreas.

Flying really sucks,

you know what I mean?

How much on what, sport?

Mally No Show.

What's the score on her?

50-to-1.

I can read.

I mean, how does she run?

I don't know sh*t from horses.

I just put up the names.

She started out at 20-to-1.

The smart money must figure

she ain't got a chance.

You want to bet or not?

Maybe later.

Ed's Pony Book.

You got a horse in the 10th race

called Mally No Show.

- Got a line on her?

- Hang on.

We've got her, 70-to- 1.

70? It was 60-to-1

10 minutes ago.

So aren't you glad you waited?

But the odds are bound to go down.

No filly can be that bad.

You found out I was right, didn't you?

I didn't find out dick.

But a horse named Mally No Show's

in the 10th race at Santa Anita.

Somebody's betting she'll

drop dead at the starting gate.

And this is the gate right here!

You see? They're saying

we haven't got a chance!

For all I know,

it's just a coincidence.

It's not a coincidence.

There isn't any 10th race at Anita!

Wagon's outside.

What about that horse?

75-to-1.

Sounds like a real nag.

Go back home. Leave me be.

Call it off. Please!

We're splitting right now.

One of you call Hertz or Avis.

I don't care which one.

Have them leave me a car

between here and the airport.

Leave the keys. I'll pay

once she's on the plane.

Lf, and I say if,

what you're saying is true...

...somebody's betting I can't do my job.

They're full of sh*t!

These people laying these odds

will chew you up and spit you out!

You're f***ing crazy.

I'm not going anyplace with you.

What about that car?

'74 Plymouth, blue.

It's parked at the Christian Center.

- Who's the driver?

- That's me.

Let's go.

- Just him.

- We're a team.

Next time.

You cheap-shot, gutless bastard!

You get off roughing up girls,

don't you?

Big man!

Big 45-caliber fruit!

That's me.

Macho mentality.

You'll get us both killed

before we get out of here!

Jesus!

Breathe deeply.

There it is.

All right.

Pull around in front.

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