Saturday, October 9, 2010

Triple Six the Battle of Rings

Here I slouch. I've got a pocket pair.. 6's to be exact. One club, one spade. The flop produces a 6 of diamonds, 10 of clubs, and a 4 of hearts. I glare through my scratched, black Ray-Bans, that I've owned ever since the 1st time I watched the Blues Brothers Movie. (not the John Goodman piece of rat shit, fagot idiot one, the original.) I glance across from me and notice the old lady with the light blue hair, (possible wig) is staring intently at her chip stack. Silly temptress made her pair of Tens I gather. To my right, is your typical male 20 sumthin online poker player. A fuckin dreamer. I could tell he swiped his mom's debit card for his buy in. To my left sits a man with a cowboy hat, handlebar mustache, and a gold lucky horseshoe, pinky ring.

These degenerate fucks have no idea that everything I wear, notion, and slur is a perfectly executed plan. Everything! My 1988 Body Glove t-shirt and cut off Guess jean shorts emit the impression that I haven't left my home in a long time. My checkered "Spicoli" Vans top this look off exquisitely. I bet 20 bucks. Pinky ring and the blue haired vixen call. The dreamer tries to read my shittastic demeanor.. He calls. Now I KNOW I've got these pissers just where I want them...

As I patiently slow play these jip joint guppies, I begin thinking about my drink, or lack there of rather. "Bring on the bourbon." I yelp. After a brief glance at "The dreamer" going "All in." I chuckle. I not only call him, I raise all of my chips as well. Pinky ring folds. Grandma smurf takes her time.. then calls. "Damn it." I think. I wasn't in the mood to take her money. It's her own fault though. Tramp should of stayed at the penny slots. They flip the cards and low and behold grandma pairs her tens.. Nothing else. "The dreamer" now realizes his Ace, Four are no good. I am pleased.

I fold the next two hands to Pinky ring (pinky rings: I have always believed to be dumb as fuck.) and await my drink.. This cock smoker, sitting all fuckin smug and whatnot, is really starting to piss me off. My drink arrives and the smell of sweet alcohol fills my nostrils.. I sip my Evan William's with 2 ice cubes, and I tip Pinky Ring off.. I then realize this dick juggling, ass hat, has figured out my scheme. You see my friends, my alcoholic delights are what did me in. (no bum surfer sits around drinking good bourbon on the rocks.) I should have ordered a fucking Corona lightly salted with a lime wedge.

I tell him "Go fuck your sister some more Cowboy." "I'm all in." Keep in mind, I've got shit for cards. I was pissed and bluffing. I just hate being MADE when I'm the one scheming. I flip over the 4 of hearts and the 5 of clubs. He's got pocket Jacks. "Fuck." I whisper. Then the lucky cock ring that I possess, uses its magical powers and blesses me with a flop of a 2, a 3, and a 6. Ding ding ding! I gotchu now penis smuggler..

All confident, with the swagger of John Shaft and Rick James, I say to Pinky ring, "I had you all along." He shows me the one fingered international sign for "Go fuck yourself." I probably will later. In the meantime, I kick rocks and find some where else to indulge my wants..


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