Two long-time friends sat down for lunch at a sushi restaurant.
The friends had just come from a long morning of betting on horse racing, and both of them had done surprisingly well.
The sushi restaurant, a new age, modern one, featured a conveyor belt that passed by every booth in the room, carrying different sushi rolls, soups, vegetables and other sundries prepared by chefs.
All customers, having already paid for the unlimited buffet, were free to pick whatever they liked from the belt.
After a waiter comes by to take the two friends’ drink orders, one friend says to the other, “I’ve never had sushi before,” to which the other friends replies, “I bet you’ll love it.”
After watching the conveyor belt spin, and his counterpart pick rolls, dip them in unidentified sauces and swallow them whole, the friend who has never tried sushi before says, “I don’t think I will like it.”
In between swallowing sushi rolls whole, the other friend says, “Well, I wish you would have said something before we came here. Don’t be such a baby and try the sushi.”
The friend who had never tried sushi refused. Again the sushi-eating friend implored his sushi-less friend to taste a roll.
“Here, a California roll. Everyone likes this one,” the sushi eater said as he plucked the California roll from the conveyor belt with his chopsticks and waved it in front of his friend’s face.
“I absolutely will not,” he said.
Feeling a little aggravated at his friends unwillingness to try something the sushi, the sushi-eating friend proposed a deal.
“Here’s the deal. I’ll give you every last penny of my winnings from today if you try one piece of sushi,” the sushi eater said.
The detester of sushi thought hard about it. A quick calculation in his head had his friend’s earnings at no less than $10,000. But just the sight of the sushi made him gag. He had no idea what would happen if he put it up to his face where he could actually smell it.
But his decision was quick, and ten grand was too good to pass on.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
The sushi-eater, pleased with his friends decision, said, “Good. Two stipulations. One: if you back out I get your winnings. Two: I get to pick the piece you eat.”
The friend who didn’t want the sushi agreed that it was fair that, should he go back on the deal, he should have to surrender his earnings. That was betting 101.
But part two of the deal, allowing his friend to pick out the sushi was a bit more complicated.
Surely, wanting to keep his inflated earnings from the horse races that morning, his friend would pick out the most vile piece of sushi available.
But, after all, it was just food, and again the ten grand beckoned in his mind.
“Deal,” said the friend who had never tasted sushi and the two shook on it.
The sushi eater continued chowing down on pretty much anything that passed by, while keeping a keen eye out for a piece suitable for his friend.
Looking over his friend’s shoulder, the sushi eater cracked a smile, signaling to his friend that he had found him the perfect piece.
It was plucked from the conveyor belt and waved, airplane or choo-choo style, in front of the non-sushi eaters face. “Open up,” the sushi-eating friend said.
It didn’t have much of a smell and was covered in some sort of red sauce, in fact, this one didn’t look as vile as some of the octopus based rolls.
Just as the non-sushi eater was opening his mouth, a chef burst through the door and began frantically running around the restaurant.
The two friends couldn’t make out what he was saying at first, at least until he came running up to their table.
“Stop!” the chef said, his plea harrowing to the ears of the friends. “You’ve got my finger.”
The two friends looked at the chef then at the piece clamped in the sushi eating friends chopsticks then at each other.
“Ouch, Ouch, Ouch. It hurts so bad!” the chef said as he hopped from foot to foot, tears running down his face.
A man of his word, the sushi despiser said, “Oh, stop complaining man, I’m the one that’s got to eat it.”