Agree to Disagree

Agree to Disagree

Two men held pistols against their legs as they stood back to back.

“One… two… three… ” said Joe. He was a friend to both, and he had agreed to be their arbiter. The two men started to walk away from each other, their steps coinciding with his count.

“Four… five… six… ” There was a full moon, and the light created long, pale shadows moving away from each other.

“Seven… eight… nine… ten.” They stopped. “Turn and face your opponent.” They revolved in place, the moonlight glistening on each of their foreheads. “Ready. Aim. Fire!”

Twenty minutes earlier, the two men sat around a gas fire pit, each opening a new beer and laughing. Their wives looked at each other and rolled their eyes: it was only a matter of time before Josh and Doug started telling college stories.

“The Dark Side of the Moon changed my life,” said Doug. “Do you remember that dorm supervisor, old what’s-his-name?” Beer dribbled down his chin as he and Josh giggled like two kids sharing a secret.

“Man, I forgot about him! Whatever happened to that guy?” asked Josh.

“I have not a clue, but wherever he is, I’m sure he missed the starting gun.” Again, they chortled into their beers.

Their friend, Joe, said, “I’m lost. What’s that got to do with The Dark Side of the Moon?”

“Oh, Josh hasn’t shared this story with you? Tsk, tsk.” Doug looked upward, like he was asking the stars where to begin. Again, the wives looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well, as you all know, Josh and I bonded over music. We were the stereotypical college freshmen, getting high in our dorm room and obsessing over early 70’s music. We were late to the party, but I remember buying The Dark Side of the Moon LP with Josh. We were snobs back then. We couldn’t just buy the CD; we needed the LP.

“Were snobs?” Doug’s wife accentuated the were.

Doug continued like he didn’t hear the quip. “I don’t know about Josh, but the only Pink Floyd song I had heard was “Money.” Once we played the record, we were hooked. “Time,” “Us and Them,” hell, the whole album; we couldn’t get enough. I think we wore out that LP within two weeks. Anyway, one night, Josh walks in with The Wizard of Oz DVD in his hand, panting with excitement. He had read that the album syncs up with some scenes in the movie. We had the CD by that time, so we huddled over the TV and stereo speakers, hitting play and pause over and over, trying to line up tracks with dialogue from the movie. There we were, arguing over something or another, when the dorm supervisor comes walking into our room. He did one of those little ‘two-knocks and enter’ scenarios, which didn’t give us much of an opportunity to hide the joint still smoking in the ash tray. We froze like deer in the headlights. But he just walked straight to our bean bag, plopped down, and pointed at the TV.

“He asked, ‘Is this The Wizard of Oz? Did you guys know it lines up perfectly with The Dark Side of the Moon?’ Josh and I both screamed like little girls. What were the chances? So now all three of us are geeking out, arguing over whether to rewind or fast-forward. He even took a drag off the joint, although he got pretty morose after that. He kept repeating one of the lyrics from the song “Time,” saying, ‘No one told me when to run. I didn’t even hear the damn starting gun.’ We found out quickly that he knew the lyrics to the album like the back of his hand. We tried for hours to sync up the scenes. At some point, I had gotten the record out, so we could play “Breathe” backwards, when the dorm supervisor starts yelling, ‘Fire!’ I looked over and the window curtain was on fire, right above the joint he had left smoking on the shelf. Josh ran over and opened the window, and I ripped the curtain off and threw it outside in the snow. We leaned over the window and looked out to see a guy lighting his cigarette before the flames went out. He looked up at us, held up his lit cigarette to us, said, ‘Thanks for the light,’ and kept walking.”

The whole group was laughing now. As soon as he caught his breath, Joe asked, “What happened to the dorm supervisor?”

“By the time Josh and I closed the window, he had disappeared. We saw him a week or so later, but he just pretended nothing ever happened.”

The group slowly stopped laughing, and Doug looked up at the moon, sipping more beer. “It’s hard to imagine we had never seen the far side of the moon until the 60s. We’ve been staring up there for millions of years. The Earth and Moon have been dancing around each other, orbiting and spinning, and still we’ve never seen the other side. What’s it called? Tidal lock, or something like that? Crazy,” he finished, shaking his head.

Josh scoffed, audibly loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You have something to add, Josh?” Doug asked.

“You can’t be serious, Doug,” Josh said. “You’re telling me you actually believe we landed on the moon?”

Doug rolled his eyes and looked around the circle of friends. “How does the conversation always end up here? And you know full well that I do, Josh. Although, I was just talking about seeing the far side of the moon, not necessarily landing on the moon. I think we orbited it before we saw it. Do you believe that was fake too?”

Josh ignored the question. “What I don’t understand is how you can keep ignoring the evidence. The landing was so obviously fake! Shadows in multiple directions, a fluttering flag with no wind, no stars in any video or photograph.” Josh threw up his hands and stared around the circle. One side of Joe’s mouth started to rise into a smirk.

“Josh, I can’t handle this argument right now,” said Doug. “What do you want? Do you want to debate each point again? Do you want to watch the Myth Busters episode. Again? Can we just agree to disagree?”

“No. Not good enough. You have insulted my intelligence for the last time. I demand a duel!” Josh rose out of his seat and finished his beer.

The group around the fire cheered. Doug’s wife took a large sip of her wine and said, “I suppose we knew it would come to this.”

Doug hoisted himself up and again looked at the moon. As he finished his own beer, he said to himself, “How fitting. A duel in the moonlight.” A little louder, he said to Josh, “Weapon of choice?”

“Pistols.”

Joe jumped in excitement and ran inside. A moment later, he came running out with two identical guns and gave one to each Doug and Josh. Another friend gave them a shot of whiskey. They slugged them down without a word, loaded their pistols, and stood back to back. Joe counted them off and said, “Ready. Aim. Fire!”

The two fired their guns at the same time, and identical plumes of red liquid erupted from each of their chests. Doug said, “Ow!” and raised his shirt. “You got my nipple!” The group howled with laughter. Joe inspected each of their shirts and declared the duel a dead tie. Doug and Josh walked into each other’s arms and stood hugging for several minutes.

Doug said in Josh’s ear, “I love you, buddy, but this is getting too crazy. Instead of paintball guns, could we switch to foam darts?”