The Tuxedo Man Cometh

I sat down to a poker game with 4 of the best poker players in the world. There was Benito Nibori, a man from the Phillipines with a knack for knowing when to bet big. Then there was Rupert Greenman, an ex-marine with a penchant for yelling. There was Mr. Schullmann, a German diplomat who barely spoke English but when he did it sounded scary. "I RAISE!" he would say, but it sounded like "I will destroy you!" Scary mofo. Then there was Sunny Garden, a porn star who doubled as a professional card shark and would wear scandalous outfits to throw off her competition. And then there was me.

I would consider myself an amateur player. I'm not bad at all actually, but I've never been on the world circuit, never played in a huge game such as this, and certainly have never lost more than a few hundred dollars on any given night. How did I get into this game you ask? I have no idea.

I was sitting at my desk in my apartment doing a crossword puzzle, trying to figure out what the hell the name of Julia Roberts brother was (it's Eric) when a cloth bag was pulled over my head and I heard a voice say, "Don't move, you'll be OK." I didn't move. The next thing I know I'm sitting at this poker table with a massive headache.

I didn't ask questions, I was either too scared from Mr. Schullmann's voice or too distracted by Sunny Garden's personality to ask. I reached for my wallet and found ten thousand dollars neatly stashed away in crisp, brand new hundred dollar bills. A man in a sharp tuxedo came up to me and said, "The decision is yours. You can take the 10 grand and go home or you can play. I strongly recommend that you play." Before I made my choice I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what was at stake. "OK, so I can just leave with this money, no questions asked?" "None," said the tuxedo man. "OK I'm out."

I went home. I'm a rich man. Daidle Deedle Daidle Deedle Daidle Deedle Daidle Dum.