asked
Congress for a fourth star for him and, in a special message, listed in
glowing terms the services he had rendered to America and the world. The
bill passed without a murmur, and Terence Patrick O'Reilly became at
last a full general.

Messages poured in from nearly every country in the world, from dozens
of presidents and premiers, and the handful of remaining kings. Along
with them came hundreds of gifts. They included a carved elephant tusk
from Nepal, a Royal Copenhagen dinner service for twenty-four from the
Kingdom of Denmark, a one-rupee note from a ten-year-old girl in Bombay
and--a gesture that excited much speculation--a case of caviar from the
Kremlin.

The Department of Defense announced that General O'Reilly had become the
most decorated soldier ever to wear American uniform. In every toss,
each of the rival sides had awarded him some kind of decoration. When he
wore full-dress uniform, the ribbons solidly covered both sides of his
tunic, and he was nearly strangled with various stars and orders that
dangled from ribbons around his neck.

"He retired just in time," his wife told her daughter-in-law one day at
tea. "There's not another square inch left for another ribbon."

General O'Reilly presented the Golden Judge to the United Nations, and
the King of Saudi Arabia proved his sportsmanship by having a
theft-proof case made for it of solid crystal, so that it could be on
public display. It was soon as visited and cherished as the Magna Carta
and the Liberty Bell. A night and day guard stood watch over it.

Yet it was far from a useless relic. Often the crystal case was empty,
and this meant it was seeing service somewhere in the world, in the
hands of a Swedish general who had finally been chosen by the United
Nations to succeed Terence O'Reilly.

In his final press interview, General O'Reilly unburdened himself of
some thoughts which--refined--have passed into international
jurisprudence under the name of O'Reilly's Law.

"For thousands of years," the general said thoughtfully, "mankind has
been making all kinds of commandments and laws and prohibitions and
contracts and treaties--and broken them all when the mood suited them.
Perhaps it's a sad thing to say, but so far nothing's ever been invented
that men will really live up to more than the terms of a bet. With very,
very few exceptions, a man--or a nation--will respect a bet when he
won't respect any other damned thing on earth!"

TH