Richard J. Fleming

R i c h a r d   J .   F l e m i n g

The Monty Hall Paradox

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1

I try to avoid stepping on sidewalk cracks. I employ esoteric numerology when confronted by choices. It is more difficult than a coin toss; but provides a glib sense of accomplishment. A bit like having a beer after work, in an air conditioned lounge. Everything is a little fuzzy under fluorescent lights. I don't have very good night vision when traveling through tunnels.

2

As I leave a fancy restaurant, I turn a blind eye to the busboy sneaking dregs of drinks from abandoned tables. The homeless approach, whispering my name. In the window of an opulent department store, I watch manikins, and try to imagine how they would look without clothes. One of them winks at me. I pretend that I am invisible.

3

Up the street, there are a lot of doors to choose from. Behind one is the jewelry of Anastasia, and a gold model of the Tsar's yacht by Fabergé. All the other doors but one, are marked with blood. Do not open that door. It must remain shut for the duration. Pharaoh's curse is no laughing matter. Loose mirth can't be put back in a can. Pandora's box is believed to be in the basement of the Smithsonian.