Crime · 3 min
The Wager.
At a lonely feed store, a stranger turns small talk and a coin toss into a test of fate that leaves dread hanging in the dust.
The roles
CAL MORA
40s. Walks in off the road. No car visible. Carries a leather bag. Speaks in short, flat statements. There is something deeply wrong about his patience.
FLOYD DEAKIN
68. Owns a feed store on a county road. Has been behind this counter for twenty-two years. Talks to everyone. Cannot read the room.
The Wager · Crime side · memorlined.app
(A feed store on a county road. Late afternoon. Dust on the shelves. FLOYD DEAKIN stands behind the register, sorting receipts. A radio plays low — weather report. The bell above the door rings. CAL MORA walks in. No car in the lot.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Afternoon.
(CAL doesn't answer. He walks the center aisle. Stops at the register.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Help you find something?
CAL MORA
What time do you close.
FLOYD DEAKIN
Six, give or take. Depends on traffic. Not a lot out here this time of year. You need feed? Seed?
CAL MORA
No.
FLOYD DEAKIN
Hardware's in the back if you—
CAL MORA
I don't need hardware.
(FLOYD looks past CAL toward the lot.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Didn't see a car pull in.
CAL MORA
No.
FLOYD DEAKIN
You walk here?
CAL MORA
Does that matter.
FLOYD DEAKIN
Just not a lot of foot traffic on the county road. That's all.
(CAL picks up a bag of peanuts from the display. Sets it on the counter.)
CAL MORA
These.
FLOYD DEAKIN
Dollar ten.
(CAL puts exact change on the counter. Doesn't take the peanuts.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
You from around here?
CAL MORA
You own this place.
FLOYD DEAKIN
Twenty-two years. My wife's father built it, well, the original. I put the addition on in ninety-four—
CAL MORA
I didn't ask for the history.
(FLOYD's smile fades.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Alright then.
(CAL opens the peanuts. Eats one.)
CAL MORA
I'm going to flip a coin.
FLOYD DEAKIN
A what?
CAL MORA
A coin. You call it.
FLOYD DEAKIN
What for?
CAL MORA
Just call it.
FLOYD DEAKIN
I don't— is this some kind of—
CAL MORA
Call it.
(He takes a quarter from his pocket. Puts it on his thumb.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
I'm not sure I follow, friend.
CAL MORA
I'm not your friend. Heads or tails.
(The radio switches from weather to a feed commercial.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Listen, if this is about money—
CAL MORA
Heads or tails.
(He flips the coin. Catches it. Covers it with his palm on the counter.)
(after a long moment)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Heads.
(CAL lifts his hand. Looks at the coin. Looks at FLOYD.)
CAL MORA
Well.
(He slides the coin across the counter.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Did I— was that right?
(CAL picks up the peanuts.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
What was the bet?
(CAL walks to the door. The bell rings.)
FLOYD DEAKIN
Mister. What was the bet.
(The door closes. Through the window, CAL crosses the empty lot onto the county road. No car. No direction.)
(FLOYD picks up the quarter. Puts it in the register. Takes it back out. Sets it on the counter where CAL left it.)
Print it for class, or open it in the app: every role in this side is playable, and the other side of the scene gets a reader. Cast a voice against your part in the Audition Room, then run it until the lines are yours.
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