[Scene: A small, rundown betting shop. The walls are plastered with posters of smiling millionaires, flashy cars, and luxury mansions. Three young men—Chijioke, Kwame and Tunde—huddle around a small table with their phones in hand, placing bets.]

Chijioke: (Excitedly) This one is a sure banker, my brothers! I can feel it! If Man United wins this game, I’m buying land in Lekki tomorrow.

Kwame: (Laughs) Ah, Chijioke, you still dey dream! By this time next week, I’ll be the proud owner of a fleet of Bentleys. Forget farming, forget school—Bet9ja is my future.

Tunde: (Shakes his head, grinning) You people never learn. Me, I already put my life savings on that horse race in Dubai. The way I see it, horses never disappoint. Politicians do, horses don’t.

Chijioke: (Scoffs) Politicians, ehn? Abeg, don’t mention them here! If those big men in government hadn’t gambled with our futures, would we be here today? Instead of getting jobs, we’re betting on European footballers we’ve never met.

Kwame: (Laughing bitterly) It’s true o! They gamble with our taxes and call it “development projects,” meanwhile we gamble with our school fees and call it “investment.”

Tunde: (Shakes his head) You think it’s a joke? Our leaders play the lottery every time they get into power—”Which contract will I win today? Which foreign account will I fill with money?” The only difference is, their odds are 100 percent!

[They all laugh, but there’s a tinge of sadness in their voices.]

Chijioke: (Suddenly serious) You know, sometimes I wonder: What if we’re not the gamblers? What if we’re the ones being bet on?

Kwame: (Frowning) What do you mean?

Chijioke: (Shrugs) Think about it. The politicians sit in their mansions, placing bets on us. “Will this generation rise up and make change?” Nah, they say. “They’ll bet their last kobo on Arsenal and lose again.” And we prove them right, every time.

Tunde: (Laughs bitterly) They bet on our ignorance, our desperation. They know we’re too hungry to fight back, so we fight to win something small here. A few naira, a few cedis, a dream that one day, one bet will change everything.

[There’s a moment of silence as the weight of their words sinks in.]

Kwame: (Breaking the silence, chuckling) But, my people, let’s not be too gloomy. After all, we still have hope! And hope, my brothers, comes in the form of… (He dramatically raises his phone) …SuperBet Jackpot!

Chijioke: (Laughing) Ah, Kwame, you’re a madman! But okay, let me try my luck. If I win today, I swear I’ll run for president next election!

Tunde: (Laughing harder) President? And do what? Gamble with the budget like the rest of them?

Chijioke: (Grinning) Why not? If they can gamble with our future, I’ll gamble with their treasury!

[They burst into laughter again, but it fades quickly, the reality of their situation looming large.]

Kwame: (Sighs) Na so we dey o. All we have left is the roll of the dice. If we win, we eat. If we lose, we keep hoping.

Tunde: (Quietly) One day, sha. One day we’ll win something more than just naira. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll win back our lives.

[They sit in silence, staring at their phones, as the lights slowly dim, leaving them in the dim glow of their betting screens.]

[Curtain closes.]