The tough get going

Rough fucking morning dude. I was hungover all day yesterday, and barely moved from my apartment until about 6 in the PM. While rummaging through my random bills in my pocket, I realized that I had somehow lost an additional 40 bucks the night before, so when my buddy came by to return my lost cell phone, he told me how he claimed the shit went down while I was blacked out on jagr. As much as his story seems to check out, there is one gaping hole. Apparently, I was talking about the middle school version of the game ‘quarters’ I used to play that involved no alcohol whatsoever. It was a basic match game where you would flip a quarter on the floor and your opponnent would either call match or miss. If he did what he said, he swooped in and grabbed up both quarters, otherwise you were the 50 cent champion. When it was at its height in the seventh grade, I would bring a pocketfull of quarters to school and either come back broke or rich enough to buy six packs of contraband jolt cola. As I played the game more, I started to realize that there were ways to take an edge against your opponnent. Specifically, my math class carpeting allowed me to guarantee victory if I got to go second. I would hold my hand real close to the floor and basically drop the quarter instead of flipping it, letting it go one full revolution and land whichever way I had originally set it in my fist. Shit was fucking dominant. I wouldnt pull it out on anyone who knew what the fuck they were doing, but I was crossing cats left and right who just wanted action.
Flash forward to a posh las vegas apartment 12 years later. Within my fond memories, I went on some sort of rant about how I gradually got so good that on a carpeted floor I could set a throw even from eye level and that I would throw down on it right fucking then. Hoping that the bet would be found inane enough not to be taken, I dropped two twenty spots on the table, set the quarter in my palm, and embarked upon an elaborate chicken dance directed at both members of my audience. They called so quickly that I knew I had made a mistake, especially when they proclaimed jointly “tails never fails”. Fucking tails dude, clearly the right call in any coinflip, and these sons of bitches didnt make the rookie play and go heads. I must have gotten nervous pretoss at their joint confidence of seeing the ass end of a quarter looking up at them, that when I set it heads, it only went 4 and a half revolutions not the full five and my shit was sunk. Fucking bullshit state commemerative piece of shit that gave me false hope when I saw a face hanging out. Tails my ass.
So I was a bit sour when I had to drive out to do some work. I tutored this kid for a couple hours then shot over to my boy Rick’s place to smoke some shit and play video games. High as a kite, I went to put in my weekly football pool picks at the palace station, and figured lets play a little poker. I sat four eight with a hundred bucks and got drawn out on the fifth hand to take me down to 60. For the next hour and a half I could not get healthy. I was down below thirty bucks many times and then would double up before getting eaten away again. The whole time there with this jackass from the subcontinent sitting to my left that raised literally 80% of the time the action was to him and never folded. He blew through about 400 bucks in the time he was there and everyone was getting rich but me. One time we capped it preflop when I had pocket jacks. Flop came queen, ten, nine with two clubs, and I had the jack of clubs. It got capped on the flop and the turn came ace of clubs. I checked and called, with the river coming nine of diamonds. Again, I checked and called and he flipped over 9-6 of spades to take the monsterous pot. I was pretty fucking furious, but luckily I was rewarded in my steaming state with a ten five of hearts. I played it strong hitting a five on the flop that held up despite many scare cards, and followed it up with an ace eight that held. With the kill button, I got seven four suited that two paired its way to bank and I cashed out once the easy money left the table in disgust. I ended up 55 dollars richer than I began, but far more of that free money should have found its way into my stack.
I wandered home, and passed out early, waking around 9 in the AM. My roommate Russell used to be a mainstay at the golden nugget 11AM 60 dollar buy in tourney, and he convinced me it was good money. We made a first man out agreement for twenty as well as a 40 dollar bounty if one knocked the other out. We hightailed it downtown and were amongst the sort that would make trenton seem respectable. There is not one person in there who isnt either a complete degenerate gambler or older than the invention of tang. Russell and I postdate tang, so we probably fell distinctly into the other category. Its a creepy almost zombified version of the strip, and likely the best place in the world to drop a little acid if you want to be convicted of stabbing an elderly man through the heart with a wooden stake.
The tourney was a decent format, giving you 2000 chips for your 60 bucks and rebuys of 1500 for 40 bucks. I played fairly strong early, getting called on a bluff that knocked my stack in half. I tightened up and tripled up, then maintained my tight exterior until the break. I was sitting on about 6 grand in chips with the blinds at 200/400 and barely played a hand. I had a big blind K-8 of spades that top paired the king, and when I got checked into by the little blind I put a 1200 dollar bet out that got reraised 3 grand. With two flush cards out there and 3200 in the pot, I figured I was getting two to one and even a higher king gave me at least some outs. He flipped two pair kings and tens, and I was fucked. I doubled up once before coming to another decision. I had folded two straight suited connectors, and was now looking down at 56 suited. Fives had been real lucky for me, so I limped for 600 and got reraised to 1800. There was 3000 in the pot with me to call 1200, so I did and the flop came 2, 5, 8 with two diamonds. I thought for sure the guy would give me a chance to check raise, so I checked and he did likewise. Turn came queen, and I decided that I had to bet even though he could have hit the card. I bet 800, which in retrospect was a ridiculous number, and he put me all in. I was sure he was on two overcards, but thought it was just as likely that he had AJ or AK as something with a queen. I called my remaining 1000, and he flipped king queen suited. No help on the river and I stormed out of the joint pissed at myself for not moving on the flop.
I tried to calm down by throwing ten bucks into a slot machine, but that just made me angrier. Fucking blanks all over the place, why the fuck are they there. You give me a blank on the first reel, and I know the other reels dont fucking matter. What am I, rooting for three blanks so I can get my money back? Put a fucking lemon or some sort of cash symbol everywhere that there would be a blank and I wouldnt be so disenfranchised even if the payouts werent changed at all. Are the slot companies just too fucking lazy to fill in their whitespace or do they think people enjoy blanks? Red, white, and blue my ass. More like Red, Yellow, hammer and sickle. Shit took me for ten bucks that probably went towards the re-erection of the berlin wall.
I went back over to binions where my car was parked and saw an empty craps table prime for the picking. It was time to get a hot hand in a dice game and make it all back right there. I put my sixty bucks on the felt and stared down the stickman as my chips were counted. Five on the line, and I was throwin bones. The problem with me playing dice is that it is my favorite thing in the world to do and I have an unreasonable system that can not possibly win. I would say the true house edge against me in craps is like 25%, because I just press the shit out of my bets and combinational probabilities could get real negative. I fluctuated up and down over a few rolls with me missing a six that would have put me up 40. I was betting big on a hot shooter who joined me to hit a six, eight, or nine, and the motherfucker went 6-1 to bust me out. i threw down another twenty in defiance and retook the dice, whereby I doubled up on a backdoor little joe. I pressed some shits and crapped out before I could see any true financial return. On the morning, I dropped 150 and that doesnt include the 22 I threw on the KC/NYG over that could not possibly hit given how my lucks been running thusfar. The only thing you can do in the middle of a run like this is smoke a bowl, eat a couple swiss cake rolls, and take a good long look at tommorrow’s NFL lines, when the going gets tough, Moulton bets football. Im waiting on a call from a lucky ass steelers fan who is begging to give back the money he bullshitted his way tolast week, so once we solidify my locks the Mad Dog will start barking.

The tough get going

Post a comment