The Joker
<span style="text-shadow:2px 2px 4px Purpl
[video=youtube_share;IxpJKJCjjV8]http://youtu.be/IxpJKJCjjV8[/video]
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Ryoga
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Cfrock
Friendly Competition
“I fold.” Steve Herz threw down his worthless cards and accepted another lost hand. That was the third one in a row. He was haemorrhaging money and had almost none left.
“Guess the Lady is smiling at me tonight.” Frank Bradford, a hulking brute of a man, laughed as he grabbed the money in the middle of the table and dragged it towards himself. Once more he had won the hand.
Frank made quite a show of stacking his winnings neatly. It wasn’t fair! Frank obviously had plenty of money; he didn’t need the several thousand pounds he’d already won in the game. Steve was in dire straits financially. He had just lost his job and with a baby on the way he couldn’t afford to lose like this.
One more hand, he told himself, just one more hand to win back my money.
“Well I’m spent. Night lads.” The only other player at the table left. For the next hand it would just be Steve and Frank.
Frank looked hard at Steve. “Are you gonna wimp out too? Or are you gonna let me take the last of your money?” Steve wanted to leave while he still had some cash. It would be selfish to play again. But what if he won? The money wasn’t just for him; it was for Julie and their unborn child. He had to at least try, for their sake.
Steve returned Frank’s stare. “One more.” Frank gave a derisive snort and began shuffling the cards. What have I done?! thought Steve. This £200 is all the money I have left. If I lose this…
Frank dealt the cards, two each. He checked his own, his face revealing nothing. Steve looked at his cards, a ten and a queen, both in hearts. He kept his face impassive. Steve opened with a small bet, £5. Frank matched it and proceeded to burn the top card on the deck and deal the flop.
Steve almost gasped as he saw Frank lay down the jack and ace of hearts next to the four of clubs. He fought to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let Frank know how fortuitous he had been.
I still need the king, Steve told himself in an effort to calm down. Without the king I could still lose.
“Bet.” ordered Frank.
Steve tried to leave emotion off his face. “£50.” He threw the bank notes into the centre of the table.
Frank looked again at his cards. “Check.” He threw £50 into the pot himself. His pile of money seemed undiminished.
Frank burnt the top card again and dealt the turn. It was a jack in spades. Useless to Steve but what did it mean to Frank? Steve tried to predict what hands Frank could make but his mind was too distracted by his desperation for that lovely king.
Steve noticed he was breathing rather fast and tried to stop so as not to give away his excitement. He noticed Frank staring at him and realised he had to move the game forward. “Check.” He didn’t want to commit more money before he saw the final card. Frank raised by £50, putting the cash with the rest of the pot.
Steve’s mouth went dry. He had to match the bet to stay in the game. Did Frank suspect he had a potentially miraculous hand? Was he trying to buy the pot? Without a word, Steve threw in another £50. He looked at Frank, hoping he looked cool and calm.
To Steve’s relief, Frank grunted and then burnt the top card before dealing the river, the fifth and final card. There was a brief flicker across Frank’s face that betrayed his disappointment. Steve remained master of his emotions enough to not show what he now felt. It was an internal battle he might lose at any moment. The river, that blessed fifth card, was the king of hearts. Steve was holding an unbeatable royal flush.
Frank—no doubt annoyed with a lacklustre hand—gave a sharp bark from across the table that brought Steve back to the reality of the game. Steve suddenly became aware that if he could get Frank to go all-in, he could walk away with £2,500. He had the highest possible hand, there was nothing to lose!
Steve made a show of swallowing, sniffed loudly and began to fidget a little. He wanted Frank to think he had no confidence in his cards, so that when he bet everything, Frank would see it as a bluff. “All-in.” Steve slowly pushed his remaining money into the middle of the table. He kept his eyes low to add to the effect and hoped Frank would be taken in by his ruse.
“Call!” The word was almost bellowed from across the table. Steve watched Frank shove his pile of cash into the middle of the table. This was it. Steve had got all of the money in play and he held onto a guaranteed winning hand. A smug grin spread across his face. He looked at Frank and turned over his cards, revealing the flush. Frank looked at the cards for a moment and when he realised what they meant, he swore loudly and tore up his own.
Unable to do anything about the result, Frank cursed Steve and left in a fury. Giddy with delight, Steve sorted his winnings and stuffed them into his wallet. He stood up and went to get a drink from the bar, a quiet celebration of his triumph.
It was two hours later. Steve, tipsy from his drinks, walked out into the street. He was still elated from his victory at the poker table. He didn’t notice the movement in the alleyway behind him. A strong hand gripped his collar and thrust him into the shadows. Steve felt a hot pain erupt from his chest as a knife slid deep between his ribs.
“Nobody takes Frank Bradford for a ride.”
Friendly Competition
“I fold.” Steve Herz threw down his worthless cards and accepted another lost hand. That was the third one in a row. He was haemorrhaging money and had almost none left.
“Guess the Lady is smiling at me tonight.” Frank Bradford, a hulking brute of a man, laughed as he grabbed the money in the middle of the table and dragged it towards himself. Once more he had won the hand.
Frank made quite a show of stacking his winnings neatly. It wasn’t fair! Frank obviously had plenty of money; he didn’t need the several thousand pounds he’d already won in the game. Steve was in dire straits financially. He had just lost his job and with a baby on the way he couldn’t afford to lose like this.
One more hand, he told himself, just one more hand to win back my money.
“Well I’m spent. Night lads.” The only other player at the table left. For the next hand it would just be Steve and Frank.
Frank looked hard at Steve. “Are you gonna wimp out too? Or are you gonna let me take the last of your money?” Steve wanted to leave while he still had some cash. It would be selfish to play again. But what if he won? The money wasn’t just for him; it was for Julie and their unborn child. He had to at least try, for their sake.
Steve returned Frank’s stare. “One more.” Frank gave a derisive snort and began shuffling the cards. What have I done?! thought Steve. This £200 is all the money I have left. If I lose this…
Frank dealt the cards, two each. He checked his own, his face revealing nothing. Steve looked at his cards, a ten and a queen, both in hearts. He kept his face impassive. Steve opened with a small bet, £5. Frank matched it and proceeded to burn the top card on the deck and deal the flop.
Steve almost gasped as he saw Frank lay down the jack and ace of hearts next to the four of clubs. He fought to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let Frank know how fortuitous he had been.
I still need the king, Steve told himself in an effort to calm down. Without the king I could still lose.
“Bet.” ordered Frank.
Steve tried to leave emotion off his face. “£50.” He threw the bank notes into the centre of the table.
Frank looked again at his cards. “Check.” He threw £50 into the pot himself. His pile of money seemed undiminished.
Frank burnt the top card again and dealt the turn. It was a jack in spades. Useless to Steve but what did it mean to Frank? Steve tried to predict what hands Frank could make but his mind was too distracted by his desperation for that lovely king.
Steve noticed he was breathing rather fast and tried to stop so as not to give away his excitement. He noticed Frank staring at him and realised he had to move the game forward. “Check.” He didn’t want to commit more money before he saw the final card. Frank raised by £50, putting the cash with the rest of the pot.
Steve’s mouth went dry. He had to match the bet to stay in the game. Did Frank suspect he had a potentially miraculous hand? Was he trying to buy the pot? Without a word, Steve threw in another £50. He looked at Frank, hoping he looked cool and calm.
To Steve’s relief, Frank grunted and then burnt the top card before dealing the river, the fifth and final card. There was a brief flicker across Frank’s face that betrayed his disappointment. Steve remained master of his emotions enough to not show what he now felt. It was an internal battle he might lose at any moment. The river, that blessed fifth card, was the king of hearts. Steve was holding an unbeatable royal flush.
Frank—no doubt annoyed with a lacklustre hand—gave a sharp bark from across the table that brought Steve back to the reality of the game. Steve suddenly became aware that if he could get Frank to go all-in, he could walk away with £2,500. He had the highest possible hand, there was nothing to lose!
Steve made a show of swallowing, sniffed loudly and began to fidget a little. He wanted Frank to think he had no confidence in his cards, so that when he bet everything, Frank would see it as a bluff. “All-in.” Steve slowly pushed his remaining money into the middle of the table. He kept his eyes low to add to the effect and hoped Frank would be taken in by his ruse.
“Call!” The word was almost bellowed from across the table. Steve watched Frank shove his pile of cash into the middle of the table. This was it. Steve had got all of the money in play and he held onto a guaranteed winning hand. A smug grin spread across his face. He looked at Frank and turned over his cards, revealing the flush. Frank looked at the cards for a moment and when he realised what they meant, he swore loudly and tore up his own.
Unable to do anything about the result, Frank cursed Steve and left in a fury. Giddy with delight, Steve sorted his winnings and stuffed them into his wallet. He stood up and went to get a drink from the bar, a quiet celebration of his triumph.
It was two hours later. Steve, tipsy from his drinks, walked out into the street. He was still elated from his victory at the poker table. He didn’t notice the movement in the alleyway behind him. A strong hand gripped his collar and thrust him into the shadows. Steve felt a hot pain erupt from his chest as a knife slid deep between his ribs.
“Nobody takes Frank Bradford for a ride.”
Music Competition Winner:
Pl511
Graphic Community Contest Winner:
Weren't you listening? I said NO ONE!!!!
Random Drawing Competition Winner:
Ryoga
