Myself - Chapter two - (Part IX)

“So who gets his teeth cleaned tomorrow?” I asked.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” I suggested. We stopped walking and faced each other. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Two rocks. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling about this. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Again, two rocks. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Two scissors. Bugsy and I exchanged annoyed looks. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Two rocks. I knew that in this situation I would typically play paper next, but I knew that I knew that I would do it too, so my next inclination was too play rock, which would beat the scissors my opponent would play to beat my assumed paper, but, of course, Bugsy knew it too. There was a brief pause as our minds raced. I looked over Bugsy’s shoulder and saw a large boulder. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Two rocks.

“WHAT?” I screamed in frustration.

“Look behind you,” Bugsy said. I turned around. A record store.

I rolled my eyes. “Rock and roll?” I asked.

“No, that’s not it. Close, though.”

I looked again. In the window, a Rolling Stones album was prominently displayed.

“Maybe we should flip a coin.”