Chapter 3: The One with the Sonogram and the Slap Bet
Ross Geller was a paleontologist, a man of science, order, and facts. But right now, his life felt like a chaotic, prehistoric mess. He was at his ex-wife Carol's apartment, sitting on a couch that smelled vaguely of mothballs and despair. And she had just dropped a bombshell.
"I'm pregnant," Carol said, her voice surprisingly calm. "And you're the father."
Ross's world tilted on its axis. He had just been divorced from a woman who had come out as a lesbian, and now, he was going to be a father. He felt a wave of nausea, a primal fear he hadn't experienced since he had to give a lecture in front of a room full of people who thought dinosaurs were a hoax. His internal monologue, usually filled with dry scientific facts, was now a cacophony of panicked, nonsensical questions. How am I going to tell my parents? What about the baby? Will it be a boy or a girl? Will it like me? Do I even like babies? I liked dinosaurs, but they're extinct. I hope the baby isn't extinct!
He sat in a daze, the world outside his mind a blur. The next few days were a haze of nervous pacing and frantic phone calls. He hadn't told his parents yet, and the thought of their reaction, especially his mother's, sent a shiver down his spine. She had a way of turning every conversation into a critique of his life choices.
The gang was gathered at Monica's for dinner, the Geller parents in tow. Mr. and Mrs. Geller were a masterclass in passive-aggressive parenting. Every compliment to Ross was a backhanded slap to Monica.
"Oh, look at Ross," Mrs. Geller cooed, "He's a doctor! I bet he's going to get a great job and a wonderful wife, unlike some people who can't even keep a plant alive." She glanced pointedly at Monica's wilting basil.
Monica's face was a mask of strained politeness. She had spent the entire day meticulously cleaning, a new, overly complex routine that Adam had suggested, framed as a way to "impress your parents with your superior domestic skills, a key trait for any potential date." It was ridiculous, involving a specific sequence of dusting and polishing, but her parents were, to her surprise, actually impressed.
Adam, seated at the table, watched the scene with detached amusement. The Geller's were in full form. He needed a distraction, something to take the heat off Monica. And he needed a way to use the System to get a little side cash. A thought popped into his head, a memory from his old world. The Slap Bet.
He closed his eyes for a moment. System, I need to get a gift for a future date. I need some money. Can you help?
[System request received. Request framed as 'Acquiring funds for a romantic gift to impress a potential date.' Request accepted. Generating 'Obscure Fact for Wager.']
A new message appeared in his mind. [Obscure Fact: The term "data processor" was a euphemism for "computer geek" in the 1990s.]
Adam opened his eyes, a glint in them. "Hey, Chandler," he said, "I bet you a hundred dollars that your job is not what you say it is."
Chandler, sipping his water, scoffed. "What? Of course it is. I am a Statistical Analysis and Data Reconfiguration Specialist."
"Exactly," Adam said, "But I bet a hundred dollars that's just a fancy way of saying you're a 'data processor'."
The table went silent. Chandler's face went pale. "How... how did you know that?"
"I know a guy who knows a guy," Adam said, winking. "So, do you take the bet?"
Chandler, seeing no way out, reluctantly agreed. Adam, with a flourish, produced a crisp fifty-dollar bill he'd found in his wallet when he transmigrated. "I'll make it interesting," he said. "The loser has to get slapped by the winner."
The group, seeing the absurdity, erupted in laughter. It was a new kind of competition, a new kind of funny. Adam had just introduced the Slap Bet, and he was already winning. Ross, watching the whole thing, felt a momentary reprieve from his own problems. The Geller's, distracted by the spectacle, stopped criticizing Monica. The dinner was saved, and Adam had a hundred dollars to spend. The progress bar in his mind ticked up once more.