Wes Conrad was walking down the street when he heard a strange conversation. Two disheveled hobos were standing on the corner, seemingly talking about another vagrant.
“Well. That’s it. It’s the third today. Richard is out,” said one.
“Aw man. I always kinda thought that’d be it,” replied the other.
“Really? You had the second? Are you out, too?”
“No. I hedged my bets. I’ve got Carl, November 30, 2019.”
“Long ways off.”
“Yeah, but it pays out at 19 to one.”
“That’s a lot of money. But why does your sign say ‘near’? 2019 isn’t near at all.”
“Oh, that. You gotta give the people what they want, you know? Helps with the tips.”
Wes shook his head as he went past the men. The doomsday prophets are running a pool, now?