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"If you don't take chances," said the man in the striped pyjamas, "you might as well not be alive."
He was obviously taking his own advice. After all, strolling through downtown in PJ's and pink fluffy slippers was taking a whole world of chances! A sprightly sixty-something, the man was alternately laughing and joking with passersby, and trying to have a serious conversation with Max. His curly grey hair swayed in the breeze and his wispy beard jiggled every time he laughed. He, that is they, were starting to draw curious and somewhat unpleasant looks from a gang standing at the street corner.
"Max, my boy," he said, fixing him with diamond-hard eyes, "It's like this ... " He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he stepped out into the road and began to cross.
Max was a split-second late in catching the old man's arm and preventing him dancing with the traffic. Unable to stop the old geezer, Max stared, panic-stricken as a huge black Mercedes thundered around the bend.
Maybe it was just the fear of seeing the old man smeared across the road. Maybe it was a weird fight-or-flight reaction as his body flooded with adrenalin. Maybe it was the imminent threat of death. Max would never know why, but that split-second stretched into a month.
"Stop!" he managed, just as the Merc reached the old man.
What happened next was impossible. No blaring of the car's horn. No bone-shattering shock of impact. No thud. No blood. Max stared as the car reached the point where the old man stood and passed straight through!
The man in the pyjamas danced a merry jig across the road. Two more cars ignored the laws of Physics and slid through the old man as if he was made of fog.
Laughing maniacally, the old man gestured at Max. "Your turn!" he yelled.
Sod that for a lark, thought Max. The old man was plainly as mad as a box of frogs. Max turned away with a dismissive wave. He had an urgent appointment with a cold beer.
The old man watched Max depart and shrugged. Life was all about chances. Max had just used one of his. Maybe, in another year or so, he would be ready for a second.
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