"Oh, wow. I cut a five," announced Susan, unable to contain her glee. "I have a pair of fours and a pair of sixes . . . so, let's see, fifteen 2 . . . 4 . . . 6 . . . 8 and a double-double run . . . so that's twenty-four." She grabbed her peg and moved it down almost one entire side of the cribbage board. "That's it. I'm out."

"Of course, you are," said Mark, her husband.

Susan picked up the piece of paper that was sitting next to the board. "So, you're skunked. Let me see . . . nickel a hole and double on the skunk. That's $3.80. If I add today's $8.20 to the grand total, you now owe me $124.25. Want to play again?"

Mark shook his head. "Nope. I'm done. I'm going to go out to the garage and beat my head against the wall."

"Oh, come on. You like playing games with me even if I win most of the time."

"Most of the time? How about all of the time? I've lost to you the last eight times we've played Settlers of Catan, the last five times we've played Lords of Watersdeep, and I've never beaten you at Wingspan. But who's counting?"

"But you love me anyhow, right?"

"Sure. I do. I just wish you knew what it does to my self-esteem to constantly lose."

"I can't help it if I'm lucky."

Mark snorted. "Either that or I'm the worse game player of all time."

It was Susan's turn to snort. "Not of all time. There had to be some really bad players during The Dark Ages." She grinned and batted her eyes.

"I'll be in the garage."

Late that night, Mark sat in the den, staring at the computer screen. He often found himself searching the internet on nights when he couldn't sleep.

He was about two hours into a Google dive that had begun with "Worst Losers of the Dark Ages." That initial search had evolved into a study of the worst people of that time and, then, manifestations of evil during that age.

The page he was currently looking at was about black magic. He marveled at how deep into the web he had dug himself. According to the numbers posted in the margin, this site had only had twelve visitors in five years.

A message appeared at the bottom of the screen.

"Greetings, how do you like my website? I can be of great service to you."

Mark wondered how he was getting that message. There did not appear to be any sort of forum or communication apps being used. He shrugged and typed an answer.

"It is interesting. How can you be of service to me?"

He had barely hit the enter key when a reply materialized.

"I am an expert at magic. I can make your wishes come true."

Mark couldn't help but chuckle.

"It is not a joke," appeared on the screen. "I am very serious. If you are willing to pay, I can give you nearly anything you want."

"This is a pretty good trick," typed Mark, "but I'm not going to make a wish. I'm sure that even if it was true, the wish would be twisted into something that hurts me. I know how this stuff works."

"Then wish for something harmless and little."

Mark shook his head while he considered the offer.

"Come on, Mark. What harm could there be in wishing for something little? Maybe you would like to find a twenty-dollar bill tomorrow. I can make that happen."

"But what would it cost me?"

Again, the reply was almost instantaneous. "That's the good part. The smaller the wish, the less I charge. Wishing to find a twenty-dollar bill will run you $15.45."

"That's not much of a profit."

"Sorry, but I have to make some money. The ingredients needed to cast a spell to make someone drop their money aren't free."

It was no use. Mark was sucked in now. "What if I wish for something else? There is something else I would like."

"Tell me what it is and I'll calculate the price. You can pay me through my Paypal account."

Mark's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Was he really going to do this? Finally, he typed, "Can you make it so that from now on I win every game I ever play against my wife, Susan?"

This time, there was a a short delay before words showed up at the bottom of the screen.

"Yes, I can make that happen. It will cost you $25.99."

"That's more expensive than finding money."

"Well, you are asking for something that needs to continue for your entire lifetime."

"Aha," entered Mark, "That's your trick. If I make that wish, you're going to kill me so that I don't ever play another game against her."

"I won't do that. It would be bad for business. Besides, if I really wanted to kill you, I could just do it now."

"And you won't harm Susan?"

"I will not. Neither you nor your wife will be harmed in any way. You will both remain capable of playing games."

Again, Mark hesitated. This was all probably some sort of hoax. Just a way to rip off $25. Still, it would be nice to watch Susan go through a streak of humiliating defeats like he had endured for the last few years.

"I have a question," he typed. "Did my wife make this same deal with you a couple of years ago?"

"I cannot answer that. Magician-client privilege and all."

"If she has, will my wish still work?"

"I guarantee it."

What did he have to lose? $25 was a small price to pay. Heck, just the entertainment of this conversation was worth nearly that much.

"Okay, you have a deal. What's your Paypal email?"

Mark was too excited to sleep that night. The next morning, he was sitting at the table with the cribbage board set up by 8:00.

To his surprise, Susan didn't come down for breakfast at her usual time. At 8:30, he went upstairs to check on his wife.

She was nowhere to be found. What Mark did find, was a note laying on her pillow. He read the message.

"Mark, I'm sorry but I feel stagnant in this marriage. There is no excitement. No challenges. I know this is very sudden but I came to the realization tonight, that I can no longer be your wife. I will have my lawyer contact you as soon as possible. I am very serious about this. This isn't a game."

Mark immediately raced down to the computer room. As he expected, the website he had visited last night was no longer available.

Unsure what to do next, he grabbed the deck of cards and dealt a game of solitaire.

He won.

The End

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