The Evel That Men Do
A golfer known to be a welsher by some of his fellow, high-rolling club members, happened to be at the course one day when Evel Knievel was invited out to play.
The welsher, who was also a loud mouth, was sitting at the same table of eight trying to get a game up. Understandably there were no takers.
The welsher wouldn't relent.
"Ah, come on," he said and looked at Evel. "How about we play for $1,000 a side."
The old daredevil shook his head.
"No thanks," he said politely.
Frustrated, the welsher blurted, "What are ya', chicken?"
Evel stood up, reached into his pocket, pulled out a switch-blade and threw it into the middle of the wooden table. It hit, point first, and stuck, wobbling back and forth.
As the rest of the players leaned back from the table, Evel leaned in.
"How 'bout we play for fingers," he said.
Evel Knievel was an American original. Dead at 69.
UPDATE: If that's a true story, it wasn't the first time. (Just keep scrolling.)