So Wednesday night, I’m cruising to another fairly profitable night, Otis wrote about it below, and I start hearing what I thought were snide barbs from the jolly… and gigantic… host.
“You need to stop bullying people,” he said as I stumbled out to the pisser, “people are getting sick of that shit.”
“You need to stop taking advantage of my players,” he said as I walked outside to stretch my legs.
“Isn’t there another game worth hitting?” he asked as I left for the night… with a net profit of about 4 more buyins.
Now, granted, he didn’t appear particularly threatening at any point. Nor did I ever believe he would WANT to cause any disturbance at his game. Plus, the donkeys themselves were so convinced that I could only win through good luck and suckouts that they were bound and determined to have me return… and LOSE.
Still, it’s something I mentioned to situs online when we met for lunch on Friday.
That’s right. I talked about fight club.
SLOW DEATH
So, against this very G-Vegas backdrop, I picked up Blood and we met Otis at the Friday night game.
An aside:
Here’s how you know things are going well. Before Otis arrived I was in the 1s and a guy named “George” is in the 2 with “Slow” in the 3. George limps in and so does slow and 3 other players. I’m in the BB here and find pocket Queens. I raise it to $17 and 3 players, George, Slow, and the small blind call.
The flop is Q 5 3 with 2 clubs and the SB checks. So do I. Then George, who has a relatively short stack, pushes all in for another $55. Slow insta-calls and SB mucks. I come over the top for another $125. Slow insta calls that too.
The cards, thank God there isn’t a flush draw… George has pocket Aces… Slow has a set of 5s… and I’m solid GOLD.
Yeee HAW!
I’d already noticed something strange about “Slow.” He didn’t seem to suck at poker. I mean, he wasn’t particularly GOOD, but he wasn’t GOD-AWFUL either, which is unusual here.
I also realized his name wasn’t one of those silly ironic kinds, like calling a fat guy “Slim” or calling Otis “Curly.” “Slow” was fantastically slow. On every hand the dealer would have to yell, “Slow!… Slow!… SLOOOOOW!!!! It’s your turn!” He was, at the very least, slow.
So I’m in a big hand with Slow and Shep when things get weird. I have pocket aces in late position and when Shep raises it up to $15 buckaroos… I make it $30. It’s a rediculous bet, but sure to have a few callers at a game like this.
Sure enough, Slow calls and Shep min raises to $60.
I re-raised it another $100…making it $130 to Slow.
That’s when something weird happened.
One of Slow’s other defining characteristicts is slurred and garbled speech. I DO know he started cursing about the re-raise. That’s followed by him saying, “The only things I’m good at is fighting, fucking and playing pool!”
I told Slow I don’t like to fight or play pool.
Then he asked, “Have you ever been slapped right the fuck outta your chair? Has that ever happened?”
Blood chimed in with, “Not as long as I’m sitting here,” which I appreciated.
Otis, as I recall, dove for cover.
I offered to settle our still very bizarre misunderstanding with a punching contest. He hits Otis’ left arm and I’ll hit the right, first bruise wins.
Neither Otis nor Slow found that funny.
I did.
Then Slow mucks his hand and STORMS out of the room while Shep just calls.
The flop is J 9 3 rainbow and Shep bets another $60. I push.
Shep calls and shows Big Slick.
I win.