Another thursday night meant another poker game at the manor, and it was time for moulton to reclaim glory. With grabler exploring his birthrite in Isreal for a couple weeks starting today, it would be the first poker game without his meddling. I came home round seven to find crofton passed out in his room after an approximate 72 hour consecutive shift at the lawyer factory. I woke his ass up and brought him upstairs to join murphy and old fox who immediately demanded pizza. Waiting for the pies to arrive, we were greeted by a triumvarate of college kids coming by for their annual underage refueling of backpacks full of busch light. This time, they decided to bring a vaporizer to distinigrate some plant matter, and it made the night a hell of a lot more interesting.
Its not so much that the poker players were themselves burning up the brain cells, but there was a constant dialouge with the couch which contained a catotonic group of colligiates looking to blow off some smoke between finals. We rounded out our group of five and started dealing, with moulton taking down the first pot on a bluff. I had decided to play real aggressive since grabler was the one who tries to keep me in check and he was gone, but in reality I was playing aggressive because Im hopelessly impatient and dont know any other way.
The next hand I went after, I was holding QJ that I preflop raised to eighty. I got three callers, and when the flop came 10,9,7, I bumped it to a hundred fifty and fucking crofton came over the top of me for 200 more. I decided to draw, and was met with a six on the turn. Checking to that goofy bastard, he bet out a hundred and fifty. The pot was like a thousand chips and he was betting a hundred fifty into it, so I had to call. River was a ten, and when I checked he checked behind showing a Q7. Its bad enough to lose a hand you realize you could have bluffed, but to lose it to crofton is infuriating. Kid was delerious from all his case studying, yet I couldnt crack the shit.
My second chance came with only a thousand of my original fifteen hundred chips remaining, and I had a pair of threes on the button. I made it a hundred and twenty before the flop and got called by crofton and another hanger on. When it came 4,4,6 and checked around to me, I pushed all in looking to take down the pot. Crofton eyed me up like he knows how to play poker, then gave a real dramatic “I call” before seeing me smile and retracting “I dont call, I dont call”, he then changed his tune to “Fuck” seeing me flip my threes and being stuck to his original decision. He had an ace nine or some such shit that never came, and I was right back on easy street.
I bullied my way through a few more hands before calling a raise out of a freewheeling crofton for a hundred and fifty before the flop. I was holding the king ten of spades and with one other caller, thought it was worth a shot. The flop came K,8,4 with two clubs and a spade, and in first position crofton bet it out three hundred. A smooth call in between led me to disbelieve the original bet and hope that the intermediate call was a flush draw. I pushed all in, with crofton folding quickly and the smooth call unfortunately making the call and showing his trip eights. When the turn brought a six, everyone acted like the shit was over not realizing that a king would still win it for me likely because they arent as good as me at poker, but the king still didnt come.
I was down to a shit stack that pushed itself all in after a preflop raise with A-9 suited when the flop was all low cards. Unfortunately, slick willie had checked two pair on said flop, and eddie rebuy was forced to consider reappearing. As I contemplated my options, a college boy awoke from the couch and started demanding meat lovers from pizza from dominoes between refueling puffs from the vaporizer. In trying to explain the necessity of said meat lovers, he quoted a parable that appears nowhere in your traditional bible, but should have been in psalms book twenty if guttenberg didnt have his head up his ass. “Its like mana dude, god made one mana and it fed billions. Its like mana dude.” God damn do I miss pot sometimes.
Frustrated, I decided to rebuy. Even more frustrating was Crofton’s continued dominance despite his best efforts to give back chips. Shortly after I rebought I had J-10 suited that I raised preflop and got two callers on. The flop came 9-9-9, and I bet at it hoping to take it down. Crofton made the call and the turn came seven for a second spade. I still assumed I could push that little bitch off the hand so I put in another sizable wager only to get called again. The river blanked with a low card, but with a huge pot lingering, I decided I had to go after it, after which crofton put me all in. Even though I dont think he had shit, I still couldnt call with the jack high, and had to fold down to his well timed bet. Shortly thereafter he pushed all in on murphy preflop with 6-6 and got called by K-10 suited that never came, further adding to his dominant stack.
Crofton was getting real authoritative, and acting like he could play cards, further asserting his dominance by resting his gawkish leg on my chair base as I intermittently swiped it away. After the third such chiding, I told him “Keep that shit the fuck out of here, I dont want to turn to my right and be staring at your inner thigh. If you want me to say its intimidating fine, but just dont do it.” He stared back at me and replied “Would there be any other word for it?” Then he put his leg right back in defiance where it was met with a dead leg. My anger up, and the blinds getting high, I called a three hundred preflop bet of crofton that put me all in for one fifty when I already had eighty committed and would be privy to the small blind as well. I flipped a 7-4 against his A-J, but the seven came clean and kept me alive.
From there I just had to pick my spots, swooping up another set of blinds with a J-3 that had flopped a jack. Two hands later I had an 8-4 offsuit, known the world over as the moulton. Sitting in the big blind of 100, I saw crofton raise it to 400 under the gun. There was another call then the action was to me, with the 400 putting me all in. I couldnt pull the trigger and folded what would have eventually been trip fours that would have tripled up in their eyes. The lesson, as always, is never fold the moulton. My confidence shattered, I pushed all in later with 7-4 suited that had hit the four on the turn of a flopped three flush that both crofton and I had checked. He quickly called with the ace high draw and a pair of queens, sealing my already murderous fate. Forty fucking dollars down the drain, and to all people crofton.
I wasnt completely privy to the remaining events of the shuffles, but when it ended, crofton had come out on top with apparently superior play and cards. In a night where the OC blared in the background about alternate universes, I couldnt help but think maybe I was a part of one here. Only the calming influence of a pack of wolves devouring a meat lovers pizza could bring me back to happy times, and I must admit that I snuck a few stray pieces of sausage to remember what the good life used to taste like. There is going to be a break in the action while Im home for christmas, but I have the feeling Atlantic City will be calling midweek, if not foxwoods on the way home. “If at first they bust your hand, buy buy again” – Eddie Rebuy.
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