Poker Night

November 19, 2009
By Blissboy SILVER, Flower Mound, Texas
Blissboy SILVER, Flower Mound, Texas
7 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I sat on the cold wooden chair. Looking up solemnly, I noticed my opponents sitting across me. Cindy, 5 foot 6, 140 pounds. She was a tank, ready to roll over me at any given moment with her hand. On my right I looked at Christopher, 5 foot 9, 120 pounds. He had quick thinking, and unmatchable dexterity and vision. It was going to be a free-for-all, only one would emerge victorious. I glanced down at my pile of lonely pennies, 21 cents.
“Winner gets the first slice.” Cindy said, looking through her cards.
“Deal” I replied placing two cards down. When I received my new cards I gasped in excitement and gently pushed my pile of pennies forward.
“I’m all in” I said in cocky, raspy voice that instead inferred that I was all that.
“I call” Chris to my left replied, motioning his pennies forward with his hand.
“Me too, are you all sure you’re ready to lose?” Cindy’s arrogant high pitched squeal irritated me and I threw down my cards in a flurry of righteous determination. My opponents gasped, eyes agape, staring at the tragedy before them. There in a pile of metaphoric ashes, lay my hand, an ace, king, queen, jack, and 10 in that order, all diamonds. I laughed sinisterly.
“I don’t believe it.” Cindy said, mouth still wide open in shock at her horrific defeat. Chris sat in silence, gently rubbing his fingers together.
“I do.” I said proudly gathering up the pennies at the center of the table and getting out of my chair, walking to the kitchen counter. “I believe we said winner gets first slice?” I enthusiastically retorted as I pulled a semi-large piece of steel cutlery from the drawers.
“Those were the rules, I made it without nuts this time, just for you.” Cindy was now smiling, and Chris was laughing. I smiled brightly.
“You get first piece yes, but make sure you don’t eat it all.” I winked, arrogantly inferring that I would in fact eat every last piece of MY pie. I took the knife in my hand and drove down the center of the pies crust, tearing it in half, then I cut along a 90 degree angle, giving me well over a fourth of the pie. I took my price to the chair I was previously sitting at.
“One more round before bed?” I looked at my aunt with hope, who worriedly glanced at the clock. 11:45, well beyond our bedtimes. She sighed.
“I suppose, just don’t tell your mother.”
“Deal” I repeated in the same fashion I had before. I took my pennies and pushed them to the center of the table. As Cindy was counting them up and distributing them, I took my first bite of delicious Derby Pie. I swear she could sell this stuff. The delicious aroma of chocolate filled my nostrils, and the sweet taste indulged my taste buds. It was like chocolate chips on chocolate, inside of a chocolate crust with chocolate sprinkles, extra chocolate, and chocolate syrup, all inside a chocolaty shell, made out of extra chocolate. Chocolate on steroids, I thought as I took another mouth-watering bite.
“It’s amazing.” I said as I wolfed down the rest of my massive piece. “I still think you should sell this stuff, you’d be rich.”
“And America would be twice as fat.” My brother said, clearly implying that I had a weight problem.
“You’re just mad cuz I beat you.” I said sarcastically.
“Boys no fighting, its poker night you know the rules, and about selling my pie. It’s just for you, if I gave away the recipe it wouldn’t be near as special. This pie is for me and you guys.”
“And poker night!” I said enthusiastically. Poker night had always been a family tradition, starting when I was old enough to hold a hand of cards, literally. We had always played with petty cash and Derby pie. It was a tasty tradition that I loved more than anything, happening maybe twice every year. Our family would travel down to Kentucky where me and my brother would stay with our Aunt Cindy in her house, and mom and dad would go to a hotel. We always stayed up later than mother would allow us, because it would be poker night. And no one wanted to try and sleep when their veins were filled with chocolaty goodness and gambling.
“So what’s the winner get this time Aunt Cindy?” I asked, eager for another slice of delicious pie.
“Well what do you want?” She said gingerly. I glared at her, then down at my empty plate. “Okay okay, if you win again, I will make an entire pie just for you, how’s that sound hun?” I looked down at my cards, an ace, king, queen, jack, and 10 in that order, this time, all hearts.

The author's comments:
My family and I go to Kentucky every year at least once a year. Poker night is my favorite tradition.

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