By: William Briggs
America’s largest protein supplier, Tybelt Inc., is helmed by none other then Kirk T. Sunbelt. In the last financial quarter Mr. Sunbelt made a record 35 million US dollars.
“Business,” he told his horse, “is doing good…..woahhhhh boy.”
So, when Mr. Sunbelt met Arthur Trent he was smiling and a little drunk.
“Hi, I’m Mr. Trent, Arthur Trent, from the American Scholastic Committee.”
Mr. Sunbelt, looking up from his food, dropped his chop sticks, and smiled—making one eye merrily wide and other happily lazy.
“Pleasure, Mr. Trent, is all mine.”
Mr. Trent slid into the adjoining chair without pulling it from under the table and quickly wove his hands together and placed them on the empty plate before him.
“I know you are a busy man…”
“Guilty as charged, please produce my sentence!”
Mr. Trent looked around too see if the joke was an inside one meant for a nearby ear.
“Haha, right, well I don’t exercise that authority.” Mr. Trent, apparently surprised by his own wit, let the corner of his lips lift.
“It seems you don’t do much exercising at all.”
Mr. Sunbelt made it clear with his eyes that he had digested Mr. Trent’s build and found it lacking.
Mr. Sunbelt, it must be added here, was a sportsman who competed in amateur games. In whatever sport he played he would bet 1,000 US dollars that he would score the first point, try, goal, touchdown, or basket. If he won he would run around the field, with his left hand over his genitals, and his right hand in the air—thumb, index, and middle fingers rubbing together—so as too simulate the action of feeling large amounts of cash.
A local sportswriter put it best in his column (NJ Sharks beat NY Tigers 3-2, 1999):
Mr. Sunbelt’s first goal, beautifully assisted by Jones La Carte, was timely and struck a fatal blow into the Sharks defense.
However, Mr. Sunbelt’s trotting victory dance was nothing short of vulgar. Lasting 5 minutes, Mr. Sunbelt effectively taunted every member of the, 400 large, crowd with equal parts bravado and chauvinism. With his antics winded and the game commenced, Mr. Sunbelt still used every delay in the game to loudly ‘Whoop’, grab his jock, and simulate a sort of mating ritual only seen in tribes recently happened upon by civilization.
Mr. Trent looked down at his body briefly; it was frail, but by no means unhealthy.
“Unfortunately, you’re right…” Mr. Trent cleared his voice.
Mr. Sunbelt thanked a waiter and busied himself with his new set of chopsticks.
“Mr. Sunbelt, the reason I am bothering you today is too seek out donations for urban youth so they can attend university. A lot of kids, see, have the brains, but not the….”
“I get it, how much are you looking for?”
“Well, we need 25 million dollars, but any donation would help.”
“Ok son, here’s the deal,” Mr. Sunbelt paused, and put down his bowl of rice, “I’ll give you the money, all 25 mill of it, right here and now, if you can beat me at arm wrestling, right her, right now.”
Mr. Trent blanched.
“Look kid the rules are simple: both men will grasp hands, elbows on shared table, and try to force their opponents clutch onto the table with a bang, get it?”
“Yeah, I know the rules. OK, we have a deal.”
Mr. Trent had arm wrestled before in high school and he had failed to produce anything remotely close to a victory.
Mr. Sunbelt plopped his elbow on the table and shook the dishes causing the restaurant to quite briefly. His eyes narrowed and he stretched his hand out and in rapidly, generating, he thought, blood flow and muscle development.
Mr. Trent shook his fingers about and placed his elbow on the table while fixing his eyes on Mr. Sunbelt’s. It was worth a chance. At least he wasn’t being laughed out of the restaurant. And, after all, think of the kids, think of all the kids who can go to University. The thoughts put an extra inch of space into his lungs and his teeth clenched with anticipation.
The men grasped hands.
“Hear, ye, hear ye, my friend, Mr. Trent and myself will now arm wrestle for 25 million dollars. If I lose I will donate said sum too his charity, if he losses he will be shamed…hopefully all the way to the nearest gym.”
Mr. Sunbelt waited a minute, head down, for a crowd to gather. He sucked his lips into his mouth and made his eyes serious by flexing his eyebrows down some.
The announcement drew most of the patrons from their seats and they collected themselves in a circle, three people deep, around the circular table.
What commenced, some will claim, was expected. Mr. Trent lost and lost very quickly. His small frame, weighing 140 lbs, followed his hand as it was pushed to the table and he fell from his chair in roughly 3 seconds. Mr. Sunbelt rose from his seat, placed his right hand in the air and his left hand on his groin and began his victory gesticulating.
Mr. Trent had this, and only this, to say, “Shit.” No one heard him say it though for laughter was busy spreading.
The next morning Mr. Sunbelt awoke with a headache and a vague feeling of guilt for so thoroughly embarrassing “that scholastic fellow”.
The day ended with a routine poultry farm inspection. Mr. Sunbelt looked across the stables of Chickens, soon too meet their end, and felt a twinge of life’s meaning.
“I’m blessed with it all, the sporting ability, the business prowess, but I guess, for instance, these little chickens here aren’t.” Mr. Sunbelt carried on with this theme of thought until he reached his own property.
Disparities, throwing people at different ends of a level, have a way of making both parties look across the divide with curiosity and ask why?
“Am I blessed, capable, are just lucky?”
His horse neighed and reared a bit.
One year later, with 25 million US dollars, the US Poultry Scholarship was started. Its mission statement, penned by Mr. Sunbelt, found on its brochure, states, among other things, this:
We know that everyone can’t win arm wrestling matches or be great athletes. No amount of exercise will make everyone gold medalists. So, I’m guessing that the same logic applies to people when it comes to business. Some people just can’t cut it. And if it that applies to business it probably can be applied to academics. Some people are dumb and can’t get that smart. However, with hard work any one of these eyes passing these words can make something, however little, of themselves.
That’s why I am giving money to people looking to go to university to try and trick fate and upset the balance. I was lucky and some people aren’t and fate decides that. However, I’d like to bet the fates 1,000 dollars that they can’t get a strangle-hold on all of you….
