THE BIG "T"

We trudged from the Wal Mart back to the car and the big monkey boy dumped his goods in the trunk. We headed off from there.
"Say, Frazzi, " began Jim, "you like the horses?'
A bit perplexed by this out of left field question, I shrugged. "I suppose."
"I mean racing. Ever go to the races?"
Ah, gambling. Monkey boys are just about unique in their propensity to try and defy odds. They all seem to believe that the laws of probability apply to someone else, that somehow "I" am immune. It was an activity, I thought, worthy of some investigation.
"Actually, no, but it sounds interesting. Afraid I'm not into gambling much, though."
"Racing isn't gambling.," asserted Jim.
"It's not?"
"Not like roulette or the slots. There the house takes your money and pays out to winners based on set odds. There is no real skill involved. The wife gave me ten bucks to play the slots once on our honeymoon. You stand in front of the machine, drop in your coin and pull the handle." He switched to a song for a second, " The wheels on the box go round and round...," then back to speech.
The lights flash... Ding! Ding! Ding! ... whirrrrr. Two cherries and a pickle. Oh, well." Mock glee entered his voice. 'Drop in a coin, pull the handle and do it again. Wheee! "
With some disdain he added, "Never felt more like a dumb monkey in my life."
Since i was here on Earth to study monkey boys, I found the comment a bit ironic.
"And horse racing is different?"
"Yep, he asserted. "It's a tough game, but it's a game of skill. I've got a little free time today and was going out to Thistledown. Interested?"
A chance to watch a monkey boy gamble close up? I thought only our researchers in Macao and Vegas were going to get to do that. I could hardly say no.......

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