Last we left our Hero, he was seated ‘Third-Base’ at the Blackjack table.
Had placed a red (five dollar) chip.
Pretty young dealer dealt him a pair of eights (always split Aces & Eights)
Which is precisely what he did.
Pretty Young Ornamental dealer dealt him a tray (three) to his first eight.
OK to double-down on a split pair?” He asked.
“Of course Sir” she said.
Travis slid another red on his first hand.
Dealer dealt him a seven. Making eighteen.
(Dealer’s up-card was a five of hearts—dead man’s hand—she would surely bust over that weak-ass shit, he mused)
She dealt him a Queen to his second hand, making another eighteen! Boom!
Doubled down on that one as well and stood pat.
Dealer turned over her hole card, revealing a jack of hearts, giving her a fifteen. She had to hit it.
She dealt herself a six of diamonds for a twenty-one and then gathered up all the chips on the table.
Travis felt sick to his stomach and excused himself, saying,
“I’ll be right back” as he headed to the head to throw up.
He entered a stall and pounded his head against the wall.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid son of a bitch!”
Then he lost consciousness.
Was dreaming of black hundred dollar chips stacked in front of him at the blackjack table.
Then he woke up.
Opened the stall door.
Gathered himself and walked out.
Spied two weekend warriors, Hawaiian shirts, bellies straining fabric, Bermuda shorts.
They were regarding him curiously.
“Bad whiskey” Travis said as he left to return to the Blackjack table.
***
“Do it Over and Again Lance You Lazy Asshole!”
Will be continued…
***
Open Apology To My Readers:
This was a really great story when first I wrote it for a creative writing class at university.
I lost the original, but it is still in my head.
I can rewrite it with respect for my readers (both of you–That’s a joke, BTW. I know I have no less than four readers)
I WILL rewrite the ‘Good’ version.
The ‘complete’ version.
Instead of this scaled down shit version I just posted above.
***
***
Chap One Here (Such as it is)