Holding Aces
There are about 3 days in the year I get a chance to be this lucky... the other 362 or 3 or 4, I'm pretty S.O.L. I try not to think about that. I just think about the win versus the loss... even though the win is always outnumbered.
One can't dwell on the facts. One can only use them to their advantage.
My old man was notable for saying: "We weren't born under a bad star, the stars just weren't meant for us." In my youth I viewed that as a defeatist belief, but now in my seasoned age, I see it as a summation of my life until this point.
There's no point in changing the cards, you should just learn to bluff with the hand you're given. I'm never given a good hand, but I'm glad at times like this, that I was taught how to do a bit with what is given to me.
"You're a cheat!"
Strong words. Even stronger because they're true.
"You're a cheat and a god damned liar."
Now that's just impolite.
"How are you going to make amends for this."
I'm gonna start by readying for a draw of my gun. I'm gonna finish by puttin' two in your chest.
"Well...?"
"Well, the way i see it, you had it comin'."
"Hear that boys? This dodger here, he thinks we deserved it."
"No, you sure as hell don't deserve it." Best to pull my weapon now. "But you definitely earned it." It's not at all necessary to pull the hammer back, but I find it is both equally ballsy and intimidating to do so.
"You got a set on you." His laugh is like the guffaw of a braying mule. "How do you expect to do any damage with only six in that pea shooter?"
"I guess I'm counting on one of you to have bad aim and at least two of you to run when we get to pullin' triggers."
"How do you suppose on odds like that?"
He doesn't know. I guess I should tell him. "It's my lucky day."
