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The King Of Hearts

We get together once a month for what is supposed to be a friendly game of poker and a lively night of bullshit.

Our crowd consists exclusively of those who write for a living. At least that’s how it was first organized. There are those who fell out of the ‘for a living’ category. Strangely enough, Sam, who without a doubt is the most talented of our assemblage, is amongst them.

Now this is a revolving game, meaning that we don’t always get the same seven people. It’s kind of like, ‘you snooze, you lose’. If you fail to confirm by the time we’re full, you’re out.

So last night, the game was at my house. Sam, who no one had seen for quite a while, reserved two months in advance. This was a pretty curious occurrence, so much so that when word got out, there was a rush to book a seat at the table for the night.

There was much speculation that Sam, while working all sorts of odd jobs over the past few years, was going to surprise us all with a newly finished manuscript. It was quite inconceivable, his protestations to the contrary, that a man in possession of his writing talent would quite abruptly call it quits, as he had claimed he had done some years ago.

Though he was never particularly successful, we all felt that if there was anyone among us who had the capability to produce an important piece of work, it was Sam. He wrote beautifully, but that is not what set him apart. After all, many of us made a living primarily because we were masters at the craft of the written word.

It was his depth of thought, his uncanny knack of  seeing  the symbolism in things that flew over the rest of our heads, and his ability to think outside-the-box. These were the qualities that we believed made him the most likely one of the gang to produce a masterpiece in our lifetimes.

>So it was with more than a little anticipation that we settled into our chairs to begin our monthly game.

Sam looked like crap. He was dressed in rags, and he had this real worn out look about him.

Harry, a quite successful newspaper journalist, began dealing.

“What have you been up to?”, he says to Sam as he deals the cards.

“Well, I sure as shit haven’t been writing, if that’s what you’re getting at”, Sam responds.

“Then what, for God’s sake? ‘Cause to tell you the truth, Sam, you’re not looking too good”, Harry continues.

Sam doesn’t offer any response. In fact, for the most part of the night, Sam’s presence wasn’t felt at all. The rest of us chattered away as usual, trash talking and all when our hands demanded it.

After a couple of hours of this, Sam opens up his mouth.

“Same ole bullshit with you people. Yadda yadda yadda. Why don’t you boys try going out there and see what it’s  like to live like real people, like the majority of S.O.B.’s in this goddamn country”.

“That’s what you’re doing, Sam?”, Harry asks. “Because if it is, and you don’t write about it, you’re wasting your fucking life!”

Now I’m sitting right next to Sam. He’s got a ten and ace of hearts in the hole. With the four flops, he’s looking to draw to an inside royal flush. And you have two probable full houses being held by Jim and Tommy. I folded after the first raise.

Sam’s betting like crazy. Like he knows he’s going to draw the king of hearts. This is serious money for us, and it’s got to be practically every cent Sam has to his name.

Anyway, the three put all their chips in, and Sam’s holding his cards real close to his chest so no one can see.

When it comes time to declare, Tommy goes, “sorry boys, full boat, kings over jacks”. He reaches out to collect the chips, when Jim puts his hand on Tommy’s arm, and shows an aces over ten boat.

“You are one lucky bastard, man”, Tommy says to Jim, who was holding all three aces in his hand.

Sam gets up from the table, and says,”guess it just wasn’t my night. I’ll see you boys once again somewhere down the line, I’m sure”, as he proceeds to exit my house.

His cards were as he left them. His three down cards sitting right next to his four flop.

I’m sorry to say, but curiosity just got the better of us, and we just couldn’t resist. Jim turns Sam’s last card over, and, wouldn’t you know it. The  King Of Hearts.

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