Hubert had been rescued sixteen times in his life. He had been pushed out of the way of a falling iron girder. He had had a cup of Coke knocked out of his hand after a capsule of rat poison had fallen into it. He had been pulled from a burning car seconds before it exploded. He had been picked up by a helicopter from gelid arctic waters after a shipwreck. All in all, he owed his life to sixteen people, a debt he could not possibly defray. So, when, one torrid August morning, all sixteen of his saviors appeared at his doorstep, one after another, to claim their recompense, it was the realization of one of his worst fears.

"My son’s heart is failing. I need yours to save him."

"I need you as a test subject for my new euthanasia potion."

"I need you for a ritual sacrifice to save my soul."

"My nephew has been kidnapped and I need to exchange you for him. They say they’ve got to kill someone."

"I need you to confess to a couple of murders that I’ve been accused of. I’m facing the death penalty."

Hubert invited his heroes into his living room, served them iced tea, turned on the air conditioner, and gave a little speech.

"You all say you need me and each of you has a right to claim my life," he said. "I promised it to each one of you and each of your needs is equally dire. However, I have only one life to give. Fifteen of my promises I will not be able to keep. I have two young children who would not have been born if not for you. Therefore, their lives are yours also. Naturally, my wife will be aggrieved, but such is the price of honor. That leaves thirteen of you without just compensation. Would any of you accept a car or a house or a wide screen TV instead?"

The saviors grumbled and muttered and a little, stout woman who had found Hubert freezing on the side of an isolated road in Saskatchewan asked, "Is the house mortgaged?"

"No," said Hubert. "It’s paid for. It’s been in the family for generations."

"Okay," she said. "I’ll take it."

"Great," said Hubert. "I’ll call my lawyer this afternoon to transfer the deed to you."

"Yes," she said. "Be sure to get it done before you die."

"Of course," said Hubert. "Now, there are still twelve of you that I won’t be able to satisfy. Are you sure you don’t want the Lexus? It’s almost brand new."

The saviors shook their heads.

"Well then, I guess you’ll have to draw straws. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

Hubert looked around at their faces. There were tall men, short men, fat women, and a couple of septuagenarians. They all nodded grudgingly.

Then a brawny, bald fireman who had rescued Hubert from a burning office building stood up and said, "I’ve saved many people. It’s what I do for a living. I’m sure I can find someone else without competing claims on his life. Therefore, I withdraw myself from the competition."

"Thank you," said Hubert. He shook the fireman’s hand and showed him out.

Hubert went into the kitchen and came back into the living room with fourteen drinking straws in his hands.

"I’ve cut three of these straws in half. You’ll each take one straw. Whoever picks a short straw will get my life or that of one of my sons. Are we agreed?"

No one demurred so Hubert called them up one by one to take straws. It went smoothly until the third short straw was drawn by a tall, middle-aged woman, a park ranger who had tranquilized a grizzly bear in Yellowstone National Park just as it was about to maul Hubert.

"Yippee!" she cried. It was more than the losers could bear.

"You bastard!" shouted a waiter who had administered the Heimlich Maneuver to Hubert when he accidentally swallowed a peach pit. "Your life is mine. You swore it."

The waiter leapt up and smashed his iced tea glass on Hubert’s head. Then the brawl began. Four of the other losers jumped on Hubert, who had fallen, bleeding, to the floor, and began to pummel him with whatever they could get their hands on. The three winners screamed for them to stop. The waiter turned and punched the park ranger in the jaw. One of the other winners smashed a wooden chair on the waiter’s head.

Soon everyone was in the fray. It was the losers against the winners and Hubert—eleven versus four. It was brutal and bloody. Except for the elderly man and woman, who were cautious in their attacks, they all fought ferociously. The Saskatchewanian woman who had agreed to accept the house screamed and ran outside shouting for help.

By the time the police arrived, Hubert and the old man were dead, and everyone else had concussions, broken bones, or nasty gashes. Ambulances were called in and all the heroes were arrested.

"I’ll tell you something," said the woman from Saskatchewan at the end of her deposition. "That’s the last time I save someone’s life. Next time I see someone lying at the side of the road, I’m leaving him there. I don’t care if it’s a hundred below zero. And now they’ll probably call me a hero for getting help during the fight. They’ll say it could have been a lot worse, that more people could have died. Ugh! That’s all I need. And the worst part of it all is, now that Hubert’s dead, I’m not even going to get the house."