Buying
an old house was a lot of work with all the cleaning and fixing of things the previous
owner had eventually given up on as age slowly overtook him. I had been using
muscles that would have been toned if I were truly getting the moneys worth out
of my gym membership instead of making a charitable donation to the Neanderthal
that unceremoniously accepted my payment
each month without so much as a grunt of thanks. Actually, let me
apologize for that outburst since Neanderthals were probably very nice people
not deserving of such species profiling, but I digress. I rationalized that
caring for the house would serve up enough exercise.
The basement had been completely ignored and
I had only seen it once with the real estate broker before purchase. Opening its
door like Harold Carter peeking into King Tut’s tomb for the first time, I
surveyed the premises. It was dark and musky as I turned on the light at the
head of the stairs. Swiping cobwebs out of my way much to the chagrin of a fat
old black spider who had not given his permission for the sale of the house, I
descended the creaky ancient wooden stairs making a mental note to reinforce
the railing.
Surveying the room I
noticed an old table in the corner with a deck of cards loosely piled next to a
rack of poker chips. After moving some debris out of my path I went over and
sat down heavily on a chair that was extended to the side as if in invitation. While
sitting it occurred to me that the deck of cards was not messy at all but
arranged neatly in a pile like soldiers awaiting inspection. I picked up the
deck and started to shuffle the cards. It was a pleasant experience since they
were well broken in and nestled themselves into the palm of my hand not
unlike
my cat did when wanting some
attention. It was very quiet in the house as my wife had gone out to buy
cleaning supplies when I clearly heard someone say, “Are you done shuffling yet
can we start the game?”
Looking up from the deck I distinctly
saw the ghostly image of four men materializing before my eyes! They were
sitting in the four other chairs around the table. Their features were becoming
clear and Sal (as the monogram on his shirt implied ) who had spoken up, was seated
to my left.
“Good afternoon,” I stammered out trying
to be polite through my fear.
”Good afternoon,” they all muttered in
return.
“Can you deal the cards?” Sal asked
again. “We decided to let you in the game so deal already.”
“I’m sorry I did not realize that you were
here.”
“That is alright,” Sal said. “We only
just allowed you to see us now.” Sal was middle aged in appearance
with an average build. He looked Italian with a clean shave and his hair combed
back in a DA style. His hands were calloused and clean, but with the ingrained
discoloration of a working man. Joe, seated to Sal’s right was a balding,
heavyset man. He looked like an office worker very morose, with paper cuts and
ink stains on the side of his right thumb. He sat silently but paid close
attention to the proceedings.
Although I was surrounded by spirits I
did not feel threatened.
Pete and Tom were bus drivers who had
met many years before when they shared the same route. The two looked like
brothers although they were not related. They looked about thirty five, medium
build and slightly balding.
“Can I get you any refreshments ?” I
asked not sure if this was insulting .
“ No that is not necessary,” Sal
uttered. “Were fine.”
I dealt the cards and they were able to
pick them up, discard them and throw chips into the pot as needed. We played
for maybe two hours and occasionally I remembered that I was playing with four
dead guys. I was doing very well and had the lions share of the chips. At one
point Sal mentioned that I played very well and I explained that I had watched
my father play often giving me occasional tips.
The game went along well when Sal
suddenly looked over my shoulder at a bicycle hanging on a hook. He turned to
Joe glaring and said angrily, “Once a
cheater always a cheater, right Joe?”
As he became more angered his skin
became translucent and disappeared revealing his white skeleton that quickly
turned pink then red and finally crimson beginning to smolder with his rage.
Joe quickly got up from the table went
over to the bicycle and moved the mirror so that he could no longer see my
cards in its reflection and quickly returned to the table.
The crimson skeleton spoke slowly in a
whisper. “Don’t do that again. Do you think we are playing for pennies?”
Joe did not respond and kept looking at
his cards.
Slowly Sal’s skeleton turned white again
disappearing under his skin. “Now where were we? He asked. “Whose turn is it to
deal?”
It was Sal’s turn and he dealt what
turned out to be the last hand. He looked very confident with his cards only
discarding one. Joe said nothing but took two cards. Pete and Tom each took
three and Pete immediately dropped out. Sal bet, Joe matched his bet, Tom
dropped out. I took two cards and finding a court of three queens, I raised Sal
doubling his bet.
“Oh boy the kid here has something good.
Ok I’ll see you.”
Joe dropped out. I showed my hand including
three queens easily beating Sal’s two pair of kings over fives.
“Very good kid,” Sal exclaimed. “You
won.”
Everyone nodded their approval.
“Sal, what were we playing for?” I
inquired.
Sal looked at me curiously. “Well kid,
we were sent here to assess your situation and decide if it was time to cash in
your chips, so to speak. We have decided after asking you some revealing
questions while you were busy playing cards that were going to give you the
maximum extension of ten years. At that time we will return to see what is
what.”
“But suppose I don’t live here in ten
years ?” I blurted out in my confusion.
They all laughed at once and Joe exclaimed, “After the triplets come and you put the
extension on the house, you’re not going anywhere!”
“Joe has a big mouth when he decides to
speak,” Sal piped in. “That was not for you to know yet.” Then Sal looked at me
with a strange smirk. “Work on your poker face, probability theory and card
counting. The next game will be harder to win and our boss GR may come to play.
Put a couple of hooks on that wall. He
doesn’t like it when his robe and sickle get dirty. He is a little short
tempered.”
After the advice they all nodded goodbye
and vanished.
I sat there for a while and the
quiet was deafening. Had this really happened or did I fall asleep and dream
this poker game? I looked up at the bicycle and the strange position of the
mirror noticing that the steel rod it attached to was twisted like a pretzel.
Yes, it happened.
Big Jim
5/19
Cinnamon hair 
