"Play along?" He brusquely flicked the corners of the six crisp bills, and they crackled with a brittle, compelling sound.
"Listen..." muttered the man, tight-lipped, flexing his fingers and exhaling several times in angry exasperation, "...are you trying...are you trying to tell ME that you‘ll give me six thousand dollars... to... to EAT that?" — he pointed stiffly at the ticket in Guy‘s hand — "to eat that TICKET?!?"
"That about the size of it," said Grand; he glanced at his watch. "It’s what you might call a ‘limited offer’ — expiring in, let's say, one minute."
"Listen, mister," said the man between clenched teeth, "if this is a gag, so help me..." He shook his head to show how serious he was.
"No threats," Guy cautioned," or I’ll shoot you in the temple—well, what say? Forty-eight seconds remaining?" "Let‘s see that goddamn money!" exclaimed the man, quite beside himself now, grabbing at the bills.
Grand allowed him to examine them as he continued to regard his watch. "Thirty-nine seconds remaining," he announced solemnly. "Shall I start the big count down?"
Without waiting for the latter‘s reply, he stepped back and, cupping his hands like a megaphone, began dramatically intoning, "Twenty-eight... twenty-seven . . . twenty-six..." while the man made several wildly gesticulated and incoherent remarks before seizing the ticket, ripping off a quarter of it with his teeth and beginning to chew, eyes blazing.
"Stout fellow!" cried Grand warmly, breaking off the count down to step forward and give the chap a hearty clap on the shoulder and hand him the six thousand.
"You needn‘t actually eat the ticket," he explained. "I was just curious to see if you had your price." He gave a wink and a tolerant chuckle. "Most of us have, I suppose. Eh? Ho-ho."
And with a grand wave of his hand, he stepped inside his car and sped away, leaving the man in the dark summer suit standing on the sidewalk staring after him, fairly agog.