The prisoner has been sentenced to die by firing squad, to be shot one morning at dawn.
The dictator comes to the prisoner's cell Sunday evening and tells him:
"THIS is the week you will die. One morning this week, you will be dragged off at dawn in front of the firing squad and shot dead for your crimes against the people."The prisoner asks:
"Which day?"The dictator replies:
"I'll NOT tell you. I won't even know. It will be completely at random. You'll never know which morning you will die until the time they actually come to drag you away!""Every night this week you will go to sleep wondering, 'Will I die in the morning? Will this be the day?' You'll never know until it is too late."
"It could be Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday. It WILL be one day this week, any day this week, but you will never know which morning will be your last."
"You will never know"
"That's one thing I guarantee: you'll never know."
Never. NEVER!!! Muahahahahahahaha!"
Wincing at the exquisite pleasure of the pain as he slaps his color coordinated Gucci riding crop smartly down along the side of his own khaki clad leg with a sharp, "smack", the highly self-amused dictator cackles madly as he turns on the heels of his jet-black, mirror-polished jack-boots and, with a twisted grin on his face, exposing the piece of spinach still caught between his right second incisor and canine tooth from the fine quiche of last night's dinner, stalks out of the dank, grey, stone-walled, dirt-floored, straw-strewn cell, leaving the prisoner quaking in the tatters of what remain of his once-elegant patent leather dancing shoes.
The prisoner was in quite a state until late that evening, he knew he didn't want to die horribly and he was unable to eat, drink or even think straight as he paced and paced, quaking and shivering, constantly moving about his cubicle with the nervous energy of the tail of a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
As the time approached midnight, a sudden stroke of genius smote him:
SMITE
"Wait just a minute! He can't take me out and shoot me! It's not logically posssible, I simply cannot be executed if he abides by the conditions he, himself set down for this! Whatever else he may be. and among other things, he IS a fine dancer, he never, never, EVER goes back on his word."Knowing the dictator was always a man of his word, and a stickler for detail, the prisoner breathed a deep sigh of relief: he could not be executed. Lying down on his straw filthy pallet, he drifted off to sleep running over the brilliant logic in his mind:
"I cannot possibly be shot on Friday because I am NEVER to know on which day I am to be executed. Since it MUST happen one day this week, that makes Friday the last possible day and he obviously cannot wait until Friday morning because if he hasn't had me shot on Thursday morning then I'd KNOW I was to be shot the next morning and that would violate his own conditions. He'd never violate his own word, so I CAN'T be shot on Friday.Following his logic backward to Tuesday morning, Monday morning and finally to his present time, Sunday evening, the prisoner smiled dreamily to himself as he proved successively he could not possibly be executed on Tuesday and not on Monday since he'd ALWAYS know the night before. Therefore, he could NEVER actually be taken out and shot without violating the conditions set forth by his captor, who would never do such a thing."Hmmmm. That eleminates Friday and leaves only four days. So, then Thursday is actually the last day he can have me shot, and still have it be a surprise. But then again, because I am NEVER to know on which day I am to be executed, and since it MUST happen one day this week, and since he can't have me shot on Friday, then he obviously cannot wait until Thursday morning because if he hasn't had me shot on Wednesday morning, I'd KNOW I was to be shot the next morning and that would violate his own conditions. He'd never violate his word, so I simply CAN'T be shot on Thursday, either.
"Naturally, since that eliminates both Friday and Thursday, Wednesday is the last day he can have me shot and still have it be a surprise, but then, again, because I am NEVER to know on which day I am to be executed, and since it MUST happen one day this week, and since he can't have me shot on Thursday or Friday, then he obviously cannot wait until Wednesday morning either, because if he hasn't had me shot by Tuesday morning, I'd KNOW I was to be shot the very next morning and that would violate his own conditions. He'd never violate his word, so quite simply I CAN'T be shot on Wednesday, either."
Confident in his logic, and needing the rest, the prisoner fell into a wonderful sleep, waking refreshed to have a wonderful day all day Monday. He went to sleep Monday evening in a fine, up-lifted mood and slept until the guards came in the next morning, dragged him out to the courtyard and, much to his surprise, shot him dead.