I’m pretty sure I know what will happen
A pub down the street has a sign out front. “Come in and grab a stool, you never know what will happen.”
I’m pretty sure I know what will happen. You will sit on the stool between two old deaf men who will ignore you, and together you will watch the local baseball team lose on the television above the bar. You will consume about 800 calories in alcoholic drinks and leave the pub at least $20 poorer, and the next morning you will have a splitting headache.
Sounds delightful, doesn’t it?