Prosperity

I am a limit poker god. Thats all there is to it dude, mortals will fare poorly against me in battle given my god like status. Perhaps if they built me a temple with a big statue of me throwing lightning bolts or some shit I would be appeased and their stacks would be spared, but otherwise shits will not be shown mercy. The actual limits dont matter, just send me a couple hole cards and set the bets, Im gonna come out on top dude. Never was this more apparent than as I bounced from game to game last night, punishing all those who crossed my path.
It started out innocently enough, with me droppin a hundo online at no limit with pocket jacks all in on the blank flop against king queen that only had a gutshot straight draw and dude hit a king. It left me kind of sour, so I called up my buddy Moosy McGoldenudder and told him it was time to hit the tables and see a little live action for a change. I rode down to his place, and found him sittin at the final table of an online hundred dollar tournament that had started with three hundred. He was among the top stacks with A-10 in the little blind and he pushed against the big blind trying to steal, when he got caught by Q-Q. He still won a grand on the tourney for seventh, but if he had hit a lucky ace and doubled up to a massive chip lead it would have been eight grand for first. After due procrastination, he agreed to roll with me to the new Venetian poker room.
On the way there, we stopped through my place to pound a couple quick bowls and get ready for competition. I introduced Moosy to my new bubbler that I call the Noid. Its this tiny little water pipe that is made so that if you try to hit it too hard, you end up with a mouthful of bong water, and even trying to light it is an adventure that makes you feel like your eyebrows are going to be set on fire. The fucking Noid dude. Never has a bowl piece so percisely mimiced its owner. Its small and annoying, but if you treat it with the respect it deserves, it will get you high. We traded hits until we were both satisfied and loaded back into his oversized 80s suburban assault vehicle to make our way to little italy.
When we first got to the poker room, it was a little depressing. There werent a whole lotta games going, just a big empty room with like 8 live tables. I get the feeling these fucks may have overestimated their demand. Accordingly, the floorstaff was both surly and uninformed knowing that this was a miserable showing for a friday night. I asked what limits were available and they just said 4-8, when I said I was looking for something higher, the only game they had going was 2-5 no limit and there was a list. Moosy was also dissappointed with the selection, but he agreed that we should both sit at the same 4-8 game so I could show him how fucking limit was played. We each sat with a hundo and the chips started flying.
The very first hand, I had to post and found an 8-2 offsuit, but when the flop came with two aces I figured what the fuck and bet it out. Everyone folded, so I flashed the bluff and told the Mr. McGoldenUdder that was how you play limit hold em. He thusly took a run at my big blind without ever looking at his cards and took down the pot when no one realized that was his openly announced strategy. Problem is, you cant win like that at a suck out game like four eight in the long run, and my boy soon saw a precipitous fall. The key hand found moulton with pocket nines on the button raising preflop with a bevy of callers. When the flop came with a nine, it was all over but the crying. Moosy turned his top two pair, and with one collaterall damage victim on our bidding war, I made a pretty penny on that hand. I know there is suppossed to be honor among theives, but knowing how little this C Note meant to a man who had won fifteen hundred earlier that day online, I wasnt afraid to let him know he had wandered into my fucking home turf. With that hand cripling him, Moosy had to duck out down a hundo. I stayed and played a few draws with the right odds but I couldnt hit anything. Eventually, I decided to get up, taking my four dollar net profit with me.
As we walked back towards the car, I repeatedly slapped him in the face with my four singles of white meat. As I did, I would tell him, “Dont worry dude, turnabout is fair play, go ahead and hit me with your winnings”. After turning my left cheek as though welcoming combat with his nonexistant proceeds, I said something along the lines of “Oh, wait thats right dude, Im the one who took all your money”, and once again rattled off a backhand fourbill in his eye. I gave him a long lecture on the importance of practice, while we decided that rather than end our night we should see what they had going over at the nearby mirage and ambled that-a-way.
Moosy quickly settled into a 2-5 no limit game with five hundred behind him. I had my dander up, so I put myself on every limit list I could find when there were no open seats. 3-6, 6-12, 10-20, whatever the fuck you got guy. Put me on the fucking 1-5 stud list if need be, just get me a game already. Admittedly, the jagr shots had started at the Venitian and a little more liquid courage led to my overzealous nature, but fuck it, I was ready to play some cards. I was ushered into a three six seat, and told by the middle aged man to my right “get ready for some fireworks”. When I looked for more information, he said “Dont worry, you’ll see. You’ll see.” It became apparent within two hands that there was a fifty year old drunk woman, who was holding her hands up for her whole side of the table to see when she looked at her hole cards and literally had no possibility of correctly deciphering what any flop read without asking the dealer thrice and then once again picking up her cards for all to see for cross referencing purposes. Rumor had it, she had bought in upwards of 5 times in the last two hours.
I hit this game running, and bullied it down to just me and the drunk a couple times, when she would show down a completely random hand and my hand would be just good enough to beat a random hand. This one asian dude started getting pissed, so he played back at me, not realizing I was not a man to be trifled with. I had raised preflop with K-Q offsuit and been called by like three sober people and two others, when the flop came jack, seven, three. I bet out and got check raised by the little blind. When it folded over to me, I told the asian dude, “Your seven is no good, if you got the jack you got me beat”, as I made it three bets. He repopped and I just called. When the turn came jack, I bet out telling him now I knew he didnt have the jack, but he went right back over the top, and I just called. River came 7, and I said “Now maybe your seven is good” just calling his river bet. He looked about ready to punch me, as I flipped first showing my King high, and said “Im pretty sure its good”. Dude just mucked, and as I recieved a fourth jagr shot, I started laying into him. “You just had the look of a man beaten by king high, know what I mean. It would probably be best if you folded whenever I was involved in a hand, I dont want you to have to tell the wife that you let some punk kid get under your skin and take all your money.” He was fucking fuming. Just then the floor called over “Ed, you still want that stud seat?” I said no but keep me on the 6-12 list, and nothing could have struck more fear in the hearts of my table than the combination of those two events. “I guess they know you here”, said one awestruck table mate and I wasnt afraid to let the rouse continue even though the only reason the floor knew me was my repeated badgering to get me a fucking seat already. I was therefore able to bully out all but the intoxicated, and when I finally was called for the 6-12, I had quickly made 80 bucks at their expense.
I sat at the 6-12 and rode my wave of good fortune, unfortunately the first big hand I got involved in dude had turned a straight and it cost me huge when he check raised me, calling down with top pair. Thats when skill fucking took over dude. I had pocket kings in the hole, after two limpers had already come in, and I confidently announced “I have a huge hand” as I raised it to twelve. After one call, I reiterated “I dont know if you guys are as bad at poker as that guy, but usually you want to fold when your up against as big a hand as Im holding”. The blinds threw away as did one limper, and it was three handed to the flop. When it came all rags, I said “That didnt help me, but it sure as shit didnt hurt me neither”, and bet out, this time with only one caller. Dude called me down with a pair of nines, and when I flipped my kings he was furious. “I tried to tell you dude, ask those guys, they knew. I had a big hand, couple of kings it turned out. Its probably in your best intrest not to play against me when I have big hands.” The very next hand, I found J-10 offsuit, and while raising announced “Another huge hand, not quite as big as last time, but still a huge hand”. Fold, fold, fold…blinds to moulton as I show my medicore shit and the guy to my left starts into a longwinded explanation of why he folded his jack king suited. Thats the way it went dude, I spun 180 into 320, and these fucks had no idea what hit em. Thats when I got the call for the high rollers section and my 10-20 game.
I sat well understacked with my 320, but I had the know, and thats all that matters. I caught pocket jacks early, capped preflop against what turned out to be aces, but was able to get away from it on the flop when the king came. After that, I dont think I lost a single hand I was involved in. I was running bluffs and showing them, ordering cocktails, and generally making a mockery of their precious sport. After betting a river king I didnt hit, and showing my complete bluff to a guy who check raised me on the turn, he tried to play it off saying “I would have called if I had you beat”. I responded, “It would have been one hell of a call buddy, one hell of a call. That is if you had my ace high beat it would have been. One hell of a call.” My 320 had turned to 520, and I decided that it was fate putting me up exactly 420 trying to tell me it was time to go home and smoke a bowl, so thats just what I did. I corralled Moosy, who had won 483 at the no limit game, and we agreed that the best plan of attack was an exit strategy. As he tried to brag about being up more money than me, I corrected him “If memory serves you went down a bill at the Venitian, putting you up 383 on the night, while I pocketed 424. I cant help but think that the pot we played together which you got dominated on was the difference. You remember the one dude, where you thought I was a man beaten by two pair. Its alright, sometimes it comes down to how good of a read you are, when we play together the cards dont even really matter. I could beat you blind.”
He took his chastising like a man, so I bought us a pepporoni pizza and some blunts to enjoy back at his place. Thus arriving, we found his roommate floyd on the couch watching television, and I couldnt help but ask how productive his evening had been. As he began rolling us a blunt, Floyd quickly returned “I watched this Bigfoot docoumentary dude. Hes living in Oklahoma dude.” I laughed it off and said “you and I both know if Bigfoot is anywhere its the hills of appalacia.” He was incredulous as he remonstrated, “I swear to god dude. Bigfoot is living in Oklahoma and hes prosperous.” “Let me get this straight, you are willing to swear to god that not only is bigfoot living in Oklahoma, but also he is prosporous? What exactly does that entail for a large hairy mutant creature? Is he getting residuals on Harry and the Hendersons?” “Hes fucking prosperous dude.” And really thats the lesson on the night. Not only is moulton a fucking monster at limit hold em, but also he is prosperous.

Prosperity

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