[ WP ] A game of Russian Roulette between two terminally ill people .

“ Ladies and gentleman that leaves us are final two, ” said a man in a dapper suit. “ How about you give them a round of applause folks? ” The room erupted in noise. “ We are now going to take a short break. Remember, it ’ s never too late to place your bets. ” 
 
 The two remaining contestants were carted off the stage as the cleanup crew came in. Two of the men placed the last contestant, a frail bald man with pale blue eyes, onto a stretcher making sure that the entry wound faced upwards, so that its contents would not fall out. The other three crew members, finishing picking up the man ’ s brain matter and skull splinters, rushed off the stage. 
 
 “ Let ’ s bring our first contestant back in. From Seoul, South Korea suffering from prostate cancer, it ’ s Mr. Km. ” shouted the announcer pointing to the stage entrance. A scrawny Asian man with thin brown hair, sitting on a wheel chair, was pushed into the room and placed at the table. 
 
 The announcer waited for the applause to die down before introducing the second contestant “ And now, time for our second contestant. From Detroit, Michigan suffering from Parkinson ’ s disease, it ’ s Mr. Green. ” In walked a short pudgy man with matted blonde hair; his right hand clutched to his left arm trying to control it. He took his seat opposite of Mr. Kim. 
 
 “ One of these two contestants is going to be lucky enough to walk away from this table with 2.5 million dollars. Now let ’ s start the final round. ” 
 
 Sitting in-between the two men sat a man in a white suit and black tie. He pressed a button on the side of the table, which caused a.22 magnum to protrude from the top of the table. The man took the gun, laying it flat in both hands, and handed it to Mr. Kim. Mr. Kim took the gun placed it to his head and pulled the trigger. Click. He placed the gun back into the suited man ’ s hands. The man turned and offered the gun to Mr. Green. Mr. Green stared at the gun, picked it up, and with a deep breath placed it to his head and pulled trigger. Click. With a deep sigh of relief he handed the gun back. 
 
 The suited man placed the gun back into the slot in the table and pressed a different button. The gun went back into the table and after a few moments emerged. The man took the gun and headed it to Mr. Green this time. Once again Mr. Green stared at the gun, he took it in his hand and placed it to his head and pulled the trigger. Bang. The room filled with cheers and curses. He clutched the side of his head and howled in pain. The announcer walked over to Mr. Green and pulled a gun from under his vest and shot Mr. Green until he stopped moving. 
 
 “ Looks like Mr. Green ’ s disease caused him to misfire, ” said the announcer. “ Anyways here ’ s your winner Mr. Kim. ” 

