I want your seven dollars
 

The blinds are $1 and $2, the time is moving slowly, and the players have dwindled down to five. I check my hole cards and see two cards folded from the right of me. My hand is better then it often is for my standard and frequent cutoff raise, so I happily to toss two white and one red chip into the middle. Two other people toss their cards in and our villian for this story gets serious. I hear the words "raise" and I see three extra red chips more then what I bet out there.

"I want your seven dollars," he lets me know. He's being serious. He likes his hand a lot, but he really doesn't want me to call, he'd rather take it down right now. He doesn't want to have to play it out, but his cards are telling him to reraise.

"My hands too good to fold just yet," I say. "Lets see a flop."

Jack of spades, eight of spades, three of clubs.

"Fifteen dollars," he cautiously demands. I duitifully toss it in.

The dealer to my left burns and turns, delivering the eight of diamonds.

"Fifteen dollars," he says again, this time trying too hard to be assertive. I let a few seconds of time float around the room, just enough to let the spotlight focus on me. I step up to the mic and deliver my line.

"Raise."

To my left a man who studies the game giggles. "I knew he was going to do that!" he exclaims. He was right, and I was glad not to dissapoint him this time.

My raise was a sort of string raise, but perfectly legal by the accepted standards. I could spend as long as I liked judging his reaction before I had to pick the amount of my raise. The villian was genuinely agitated. He wriggled. He flashed his cards to his neighboor. When he did that, I got the confirmation I was hoping for. It was the "look at this great hand that just got busted by god-knows-what" flashing of cards that happens so frequently. With the hand all but won, I was free to pick an amount. I grabbed eight red chips and it felt right in my hand. "Thirty five more" I state as a formality.

From his hand ace-king slowly floats down into the muck. Still annoyed, he starts a brief speech. "What is it good poker players always say? ... Can't win with ace-king." The dealer is gathering in the cards, and waiting for mine. I toss mine in faceup as well.

"I can win it just fine," I say. He gazes at my ace-King and sighs.

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

you had position on him. you're expected to win.

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

as a short story I give it a "B."

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

[ QUOTE ]
as a short story I give it a "B."

[/ QUOTE ]
I'd give it a "D" with an "F" for spelling.

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

Needs more similies.

"His face went colder than a cheap hooker's smile."

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

"Which brings me to my second point, kids. Don't do crack."

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

[ QUOTE ]
Needs more similies.

"His face went colder than a cheap hooker's smile."

[/ QUOTE ]

Need more people that know what the word "simile" means. Sigh.

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

[ QUOTE ]
The blinds are $1 and $2, the time is moving slowly, and the players have dwindled down to five. I check my hole cards and see two cards folded from the right of me. My hand is better then it often is for my standard and frequent cutoff raise, so I happily to toss two white and one red chip into the middle. Two other people toss their cards in and our villian for this story gets serious. I hear the words "raise" and I see three extra red chips more then what I bet out there.

"I want your seven dollars," he lets me know. He's being serious. He likes his hand a lot, but he really doesn't want me to call, he'd rather take it down right now. He doesn't want to have to play it out, but his cards are telling him to reraise.

"My hands too good to fold just yet," I say. "Lets see a flop."

Jack of spades, eight of spades, three of clubs.

"Fifteen dollars," he cautiously demands. I duitifully toss it in.

The dealer to my left burns and turns, delivering the eight of diamonds.

"Fifteen dollars," he says again, this time trying too hard to be assertive. I let a few seconds of time float around the room, just enough to let the spotlight focus on me. I step up to the mic and deliver my line.

"Raise."

To my left a man who studies the game giggles. "I knew he was going to do that!" he exclaims. He was right, and I was glad not to dissapoint him this time.

My raise was a sort of string raise, but perfectly legal by the accepted standards. I could spend as long as I liked judging his reaction before I had to pick the amount of my raise. The villian was genuinely agitated. He wriggled. He flashed his cards to his neighboor. When he did that, I got the confirmation I was hoping for. It was the "look at this great hand that just got busted by god-knows-what" flashing of cards that happens so frequently. With the hand all but won, I was free to pick an amount. I grabbed eight red chips and it felt right in my hand. "Thirty five more" I state as a formality.

From his hand ace-king slowly floats down into the muck. Still annoyed, he starts a brief speech. "What is it good poker players always say? ... Can't win with ace-king." The dealer is gathering in the cards, and waiting for mine. I toss mine in faceup as well.

"I can win it just fine," I say. He gazes at my ace-King and sighs.

[/ QUOTE ]

This story is dumb. If its true then you are dumb.

8 red chips would be $40
 

[img]/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img]

Re: I want your seven dollars
 

[ QUOTE ]
Needs more similies.

"His face went colder than a cheap hooker's smile."

[/ QUOTE ]

this story needs more similies like you need more english classes?


peace

john nickle