666 Chips Part 2.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Third installment. The Events of June 6th 2006, captured in words and served to satisfy your hunger for reading.

Submitted: January 07, 2008

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Submitted: January 07, 2008



Read Part 1 here


I threw a questioning eye over my watch, quickly calculating I had just under two hours until I was due to take my seat. I unpacked my laptop, signed in and made my way to an on line gaming site. This was surely the best way to prepare, nothing like a few games to sharpen my technique and maybe even make some quick cash. While I waited to be dealt in, I probed the room for further stimuli. I soon located the mini bar, which was hidden within the laminated drawers. I released two small bottles of my beloved vodka from their twisted lids and mix with a cooled coke. I get comfortable on the bed, to the view of two dealt aces, and the cyber-room awaiting my decision. My account stood at four hundred dollars and with five other opponents I felt confident raising the stake to one hundred dollars. Only one person called my bet and with the flop revealing little chance of a counter flush, I raise by a further two hundred dollars, again it was called. The turn card was a six of hearts. I am a little alarmed that this hand has gone this far, what does this player have, I sense a bluff. He could have started with a pocket pair, always a possibility, I decide to check prior to the river. I stare at the flashing graphic telling me I face a one hundred dollar raise, this leaves me all in, my balance facing bankruptcy. A quickened pulse thumps my hesitant finger as I accept the bet and we anxiously await the final card. A six of diamonds, doesn't help me and I await the view of his cards to see who has won. First he turns a King of spades a smile begins to itch my tickled face. I scan the coin heavy pixels, in haste I start to calculate my new balance. Then his second card a six of clubs is presented to me, I swear in disgust. His three sixes eclipse my Ace pair and he scoops my inventory into his waiting calculator. I see a pop up appear on my screen, I have email; it simply reads, for now your account later your soul.

I vent my anger, pushing the innocent laptop towards my feet, then with the touch of David Beckham's right foot aim the Dell product into the air. There was no bend or crowd to greet the glorious shot just a crash and a spilt battery. Just to qualify my depression, I notice my vodka heavy glass is also on the floor, cola staining the light carpet. Composure, that's what I need, years spent on a yoga mat should guide me. I take in the window view, anger still seeping through my powdered nostrils. It's always Christmas in Las Vegas I think, then I counter that pleasantry and announce, it's never Christmas in Las Vegas. They say its one of the most crime ridden cities in America and the funny thing is the casinos are never found guilty of daylight robbery. My foul mood, is seriously distracting me from my date with the devil and his card playing abilities. The mini bar is now vodka free and has some brand of whisky I have never heard of, I care not. I consume the first bottle neat, the fire in my lungs a scream of war, a battle cry that I hope reverberates in the distant halls of hell. Now read part 3 here

© Copyright 2018 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.

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