Dense

Frank Artyfak was nervously flipping a coin between his fingers as he watched the race on the main sphere screen slowly spinning in front of him. "com'on cmon" he shouted at the skinny dog number24 chasing the red rabbit. "Of course" said Arty as dog number6 passed front of his bet and crossed the finished line. Frank didn't put a lot of bitdol on that perticular race, a little over twenty. he just was the type of man who beleived. He beleived he would win, everytime he entered a betting game, and would always be as surprised not to.