Last night Leslie told me she had to think of people for the Dead Pool at work.
Rather than offing loathesome co-workers and piling them in an empty swimming pool, a Dead Pool is a gambling-type game. Everyone tosses $2 into the pool and provides a list of five people they think may kick the bucket first. When someone on a better's list indeed bites the dust, that person wins the pool. Throw in another $2 and keep going with the lists.
I found this horribly macabre. At first.
While Leslie booked our tickets to Portland (kosher meal included), I tried to think of people teetering perilously on the edge of life for her list. You can't list a person someone else has listed. Just about all the Golden Girls were taken already. And Don Knotts. So was Sadaam Hussein.
Oooh, who do you think will get assassinated soon?
This was a game now, all right. Except I'm not up enough on world politics to venture a guess of who might be a target of a coup.
I got it. Courtney Love!
Shoot! She was listed already. Other coked out stars with OD potential...think.
Someone listed Vern Troyer, which inspired me to think of other people with HgH defects.
Webster...or did he die already...what's his name, again...that's right—Emmanuel Lewis
I encouraged Leslie to list Judge Reinhold through a strong, random intuition I had. Perhaps he has a freak accident filming the Santa Clause 3. Sequels are always bad news.