Wheel of Misfortune

Pat Sajak ripped the Bankrupt pie wedge off the wheel and hit his manager with it.

"I'm bankrupt," he said.

"I know," said the manager, who blocked it with his arm. "I helped get you there."

"Help me solve the puzzle then. It's your fault."

"You can spin it any way you like."

"You can't spin it backwards," Pat corrected him.

"A good attorney can," corrected his manager.

Pat walked to the edge of the set. He wanted to rip the curtain open, he was that mad. So he did.

Half the audience was still there, in their seats. They had heard the commotion and stayed behind. When they saw Pat they applauded.

"Did anyone say applaud?" Pat yelled. They stopped applauding.

"Thank you," he whispered.

An older man in the audience wearing a fancy Texas cowboy hat stood up.

"Mister Sajak, may I call you 'Partner?'" he said. "I have a proposition for you."

"You can call me Partner only if it helps me out," Pat said.

"Well, Partner, it just might. I couldn't help but overhear your financial woes. Let me put it this way: I'm rich, big rich, and I can get you out of this mess. Right now."

"How?" asked Pat.

"You like to gamble?"

"Not really."

"Well, I do. That wheel you got there is a big ol' crap wheel. Let's say we spin it and see where it lands."

The manager came up and tapped Pat on the shoulder. Pat hit him with the wedge.

"Good job," said the old man, approvingly. "He's not here to help you win."

"Win?"

"I have a million dollars saying you won't land on a primary color."

Pat studied the wheel.

"I'll take that bet," he said.

The old man came up to the stage and wrote out a check.

"You can verify everything's there if you'd like."

Pat stared at the check, then at the man. "I just might."

The manager tried to grab the check to "verify" it, but Pat held it out of his reach.

"Never mind," Sajak said, "I believe him."

"Thanky," said the old man.

Pat grabbed the wheel. He studied the layout. He had a roughly 1-in-2 chance of landing on a primary color. He was about to give it a whirl, when the old man said, "Now, what if you lose?"

"Lose?"

"What do I get?"

Pat thought hard, his hand on the wheel. "I don't know. I don't have much to give right now."

"You're one of the producers of the show, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what I want."

Pat spun the wheel. There was a gasp, then a groan from the audience.

Later, Vanna White was fixing one of the letters by standing on her toes and showing off her ageless legs when Pat approached and gave her the bad news.

She threw the letter in his face and stormed away.

...right into the arms of the Texan, waiting for his prize.