Poker last night.
Into the first game I was REALLY shortstacked. I was a hair from being knocked out. I'd been seeing 5-2 offsuit all night.
Scotty kept saying, "Joey's out. Joey's done... Somebody finish him off."
"Hell no. I'm coming after all you fucks." I said. "Just watch. Soon you guys are going to be saying, 'Wow Joe, you made a HUGE comeback.'"
A bit later, I got this amazing Hulk Hogan-esque rush of cards and aggression. Suddenly the final three players were on the ropes. I was making a run for the money! I caught Laurent trying to bluff and crippled him. A few hands later and it was down to me and my old nemesis: Chestnut. We battled heads-up for a while trading chip lead. Then in a blur of flying cards I caught the winning hand and took Chestnut's ass out. "Wow, Joey, you made a huge comeback!" He said. I called it.
In game 2, the rush continued. I bowled over the table taking control immediately with some big raises. It wasn't long before I knocked out ScottO. His anger rose from within to the point where I actually thought he might try and take a swing at me out of blind rage. He grabbed the nearest thing, which was a beer can, and squeezed this shit out of it. In his idiotic anger-outburst be managed to cut his finger with the torn edges of the can.
"What a dumbass." Someone said. It might have been me.
Luke and I went heads-up. I was raising almost every pot, winning some, losing some. We were pretty much even when this hand came up: I had 6-8 on the button. I raise, basically trying to get him to fold. He calls. Flop comes: 5-5-8. He checks, I bet. He thinks for a bit and goes all-in. Now I'm thinking he might have a 5, Or possibly an 8 with a big kicker. But he most likely has two overcards. Probably A-10 or A-9.
"I'm thinking I have you beat," I say. He shrugs. "I think you have two overcards."
He shrugs again.
He flips over A-Q. The turn goes blank, river... blank. I win.