liberty roulette

Liberty Roulette

    It was a lovely spring afternoon, and the park was overflowing with picnickers, each ladling potato salad into his mouth with one hand and pointing a gun at his head with the other. The click-click of the tripping hammers seemed to keep time with the chirp-chirp of the birds. Occasionally, there was a discordant "boom," but it did nothing to disturb the tranquil festivity of the day.
    As a recently arrived visitor to this delightful, blue-green planet, I was keen to understand all its customs and rituals. At length, I ahemmed myself an introduction to a happy-looking family. I was hesitant to intrude, but they all seemed to be so overflowing with potato salad, that I thought they might welcome a break. The click-clicking subsided as I cleared my throat.
    "Pardon me," I began, "I'm new in town. My name is Salo. Could you explain to me what you're doing?"
    "Well, hi, Salo," said the paterfamilias affably. "I'm Otis, this is my wife Marge, and these are our kids, Dick and Jane."
    Little Dick, who appeared to be about 4 years old, waved his gun at me, and a whining projectile nearly took off my carefully constructed ear.
    "... and we're having a picnic," continued Otis.
    "Uh, I gathered that," I said as politely as possible, "but what's with the, uh, firearms?"
    Otis's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
    "From out of town?" he asked. "You must be from off the continent not to know about Liberty Roulette."
    "Oh, yes," I agreed quickly. "I am. I'm just not entirely used to your language yet, you see. So, what is Liberty Roulette?"
    "They used to call it Russian Roulette," said Marge, "but you can see why that wasn't acceptable."
    "I can?"
    "He's not from these parts," Otis apologized kindly on my behalf. "Nah, 'Russian' wouldn't be patriotic. So, someone changed the name, and it just took off."
    "Took off?" I asked obtusely.
    "Got popular," explained Marge, hefting her piece.
    "But I don't understand," said I. "Aren't you going to blow your brains out doing that?"
    They all laughed.
    "Of course not!" said Otis. "You just put a live shell in one chamber out of six. Then you give 'er a spin. Then you fire! There's only a one in six chance that you'll kill yourself. And it's a lot of fun!"
    "Uh, one in six sounds awfully high for something that involves death," I suggested.
    "Hey, you sound like one of those liberal alarmists!" said Otis, suspicious once more.
    "Yeah, they said we would all kill ourselves," added Marge. "But look!"
    She held the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger. Click.
    "See? Nothing happened!"
    "Well, that's true," I said, "but if you keep doing it, something's bound to happen eventually. Rather sooner than later, I would suspect."
    "You are one of them alarmists," growled Otis.
    "No, look!" cried Marge. Click.
    "See? Nothing!"
    "But haven't you heard the 'booms' coming from various places in the park? Doesn't that suggest that sometimes, at least, someone kills himself?"
    "There is no evidence that those 'booms' are related to Liberty Roulette," replied Otis. "That's nothing but speculation. There are lots of scientists working for the Guns 'n' Ammo lobby who dispute those allegations."
    "Right!" chirped Marge. Click.
    "See? Nothing!"
    "Well, let me ask you this," I wheedled. "Aren't you concerned that those ... allegations might be true? Wouldn't it be wise to lay off until there was definitive evidence?"
    "Nah, we're all too used to Liberty Roulette now," said Otis. "It would be too hard to give it up."
    "Look!" cried Marge. Click.
    "See? Nothing!"
    "Mind you," said Otis, "there are some wimps who're willing to compromise. They get guns with seven, or even eight, chambers to improve their odds. So, even if there's something to what you say, the risk is lower than you think."
    "Right!" cried Marge happily. "Look!" Click.
    "See? Nothing!"
    "Um, I think you'd better stop that," I suggested nervously.
    "Why?" grinned Marge. "Look!"
    Click ........