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BET  YOUR  

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LIFE

Welcome to a new concept in casino gaming

You do not bet on cards, dice, or slots

You do not bet on the Super Bowl, March Madness, or the Kentucky Derby

You

Bet On

You

Would you bet your lunch on a coinflip for $500?

Would you bet your ring on whether you resist a one-night stand for $10,000? 

Would you bet a finger on whether you refrain from screaming as it's smashed in for $25,000? 

Bets like these lure desperate, down-on-your-luck gamblers like Mark Lewis, 29, to Your Bet Life, a new underground casino where he can bet on anything.  When Mark gambles his job as a high school math teacher on whether it will rain in Vegas tomorrow, he wins the easiest $10,000 of his life.  So easy that, instead of heading back to Los Angeles for the start of the new school year, he considers returning for another bet.


Sure, a few things feel off.  Why are random tourists staring at him?  How does the casino know that he takes his Old Fashioneds neat, double twist, no cherry?  Why do they insist on arranging for his transport in a limo with opaque windows, driven by a chauffeur who carries a slienced Glock 38?  And why does his iPhone's GPS malfunction when he tries tracking where, exactly, he's going? 

Better question: why should he care?  At Your Bet Life, Mark has lucked across the greatest moneymaking opportunity of his life, and, what's more, the greatest rush. 

As long as he's winning, that is.

Sneak Peek
the First Chapter of
BET YOUR LIFE
by Eric Anderson

 Version 1:
Narration with Music and SFX

 
Audio production, music, sound design, and VO
by Calvin Marty 

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Version 2:
Narration Only

Chapter 1

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MARK LEWIS had one gambling rule: don't luck yourself.

 

Beginner’s luck, birthday luck, lucky numbers, lucky horseshoes, lucky four-leaf clovers, lucky rabbit’s feet, lucky pennies, lucky pendants, lucky prophetic dreams, blow on the dice for good luck, let luck be a lady tonight.

 

No matter the variety, Mark knew that the Las Vegas Strip kept the neon flowing by convincing you—yes you!—that better luck was just one bet, ATM, loanshark, pawned engagement ring, or harvested kidney away.

 

As a high school math teacher, Mark also knew there was no such thing as luck.  The House used cold, hard math to rig the games in its favor.  For Mark, the gambler, winning was about knowing the odds and managing his bankroll.  

 

In other words, not lucking himself.

 

Which is why, as he watched the little white ball nestle between the frets of the green double-zero of the roulette wheel, as the croupier raked away his last five-dollar chip and, with it, all his money in the world, Mark wondered how he had, in fact, let himself get so non-consensually lucked.

 

“Rough luck, there, Mr. Lewis,” the croupier said.  Jordan K. – Tacoma, WA – Cornucopia Casino’s Dealer of the Month November 2023 boasted the shiny brass name tag.  “You want to saddle back up?” 

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The other gamblers were looking at Mark, too.  The stoic farmer with the sweat-stained John Deere hat who’d turned a crinkled $20 bill into seven towering stacks of chips by betting red seven, red 17, and red 27, while sipping Crown-Sevens.  The chain-smoking octogenarian who’d told Mark that, if he wanted to turn his luck around, he should start betting her great grandkids’ ages like she was.  The middle-aged married couple straight out of a church potluck who’d joined hands and asked the Blessed Lord Jesus to multiply their modest means, just as He turned five loaves and two fish into a feast for 5,000 hungry followers.  Soon, the couple had won so much that, forget bread and fish, they could treat everyone in the casino to champagne and caviar.  Not that they had any intent of doing so.  As they collected their latest payout, they eyed Mark warily, like a luckless leper whose losing streak might be contagious. 

 

Mark forced a smile.  “Not right now, Jordan.”  He looked at that listless wheel, the little white ball nestled in that damning green double-zero, the empty, chip-less air between his limp fingers and the felt.  “Good luck, everyone.”

 

Jordan plucked the ball from the wheel.  “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.”

 

As the other gamblers began scattering chips across the felt, Mark did his least favorite thing in Vegas. 

 

He walked away.

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