Big Money Games

I’ve hit a run of hot cards on paradise poker and been riding the wave rather than venture out into society. I would say I’m probably one of the two or three best heads up no limit hold em players in the world. Shit camps out at the twenty and fifty dollar tables taking down the wannabe hotshots. I just fire at the pot until they fucking say give, and eventually they say the shit. I cashed in for like 50 a few weeks back and have since cashed out handfuls of money. Shits cashed out on three separate occasions for 120, and tonight I took out another two bills. I am a fucking heads up force dude.

Problem is, shit ends up sitting in front of the computer high and shirking what few responsibilities people hold me responsible for. When I say problem, I mean to say that it creates problems while in and of itself it is a lifestyle choice. The main problem is that I housed Russell’s Swiss cake rolls hours ago, and the candy corn been gone for days. I scream at any visitors to pick up some fucking chocolate on their way back by, but their repetitive insolence has not increased the dwindling coco supply. Last pass through the cupboard found the shit bare despite significant rummaging. I just won seventy bucks and I can’t get a fucking Twix bar over here?

Finally, I discovered a bottle of Popeye vitamins I had bought at the dollar store weeks before. Shits were the most blatant rip off of Flintstones vitamins I ever saw, but if they even remotely resembled the product they emulated, shits would be worth the George Washington. I had forgotten about them long ago and allowed my bones to go unnourished in the shit. In order to make up for lost time, I started poppin the shits like they were those little hot dogs at weddings. Orange, cherry, grape, shit didn’t matter what the flavor, they were headed to meet their maker in my belly. I ended up with somewhere in the neighborhood of 1100% my daily value of most major lettered vitamins coursing through my system. I don’t know if you can OD on Popeye supplements, but if shit can trip off cough syrup, anything’s possible. If shit is the precursor to my demise, at least I’m taking that final stroll through flavor country before wandering on. I definitely have developed a strange hankering for spinach, but it does not compare to my desire for the other two green substances in my life. Firstly, the pot which flows copiously from cheap Ziploc bags and secondly the shit that allows me to procure said pot which comes from big money heads up games of poker. To quote Too Short, “Hundred Dollar bills bitch, Ill break your ass and won’t feel shit.”

Big Money Games

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