Them's Fightin' Words

“Ok, wait. So how many pieces of clothing do you have on, it looks like a lot,” I said, eyeing J-Rab sceptically.

“Six in total,” she replied after doing a quick inventory of everything she had on.

“Crap, I got seven if I’m allowed to count my socks individually.”

“Ok. Pass me the devil horns from the cupboard behind you, then that will put me up to seven too.”

“Done deal,” I said, and that was when things started to go very, very badly for your pal Slicky-T.

This was Friday night and J-Rab and I had nothing better to do than drink red wine and play strip poker, something we always talk about doing but never get around to. And yes, it was just the two of us playing.

“You are SO fucked,” I taunted J-Rab, “I’m gonna take you to the CLEANERS! Before you know what the fuck’s just hit you you’re gonna be naked as the day you were born and I’m going to be wearing your undies on MY HEAD! Like a fucking TROPHY!”

At which point the screen does one of those neat flip transitions that sitcoms use to show time passing in the blink of an eye and I don’t have a stitch on.

“Fuck,” I remember mumbling, resentfully. “That went well.”

“Sure did! Hahahaha!”

“Yeah but it’s total bullshit! I can’t fucking PLAY against you! There was no skill involved in any of that, we just called each other’s every raise and every time your fucking cards came out better than mine! I can’t beat that, what the fuck?!”

“Well you don’t have to be such a dick about it!”

“I’m not being a dick about it! I’m just stating a fucking fact! Your cards are freakishly good tonight – I didn’t make one fucking hand in that game!”

“Care to play again?”

“Yes!” I said, snatching my undies from the pile of clothes in front of her and getting dressed indignantly, “And this time I’m not going so easy on you!”

At which point the screen flips again and I’m wearing one sock Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s style and chasing a straight for every damn thing it’s worth.

I’ve got a 5 and an 8 in hand and 2, 6, 9 and Jack are on the table. She’s definitely made Jacks, possibly another pair too because she’s throwing clothes into the pot like it’s a Salvation Army bin.

I just need a fucking 7 to land on the river and I’m back in the game.

“What’s it gonna be, Slick?” she says, so sexy in her little devil horns it hurts.

“Check,” I say, playing it safe in case my 7 doesn’t land.

“Check,” she says, and leans forward to turn the last card and all I’m thinking is if I lose this hand I am going to run outside naked and throw myself under a moving bus.

Because I really, really, really hate losing.

It’s like a pathological disorder I have. In the movie of my life, at this point it would cut to a montage of me flipping everything from Monopoly boards to chess boards to 30 Seconds boards as I throw shit, swear at people, accuse them of cheating, accuse them of lying, bite them, pull their hair (the girls), kick them in the shin and storm out the room vowing never to play “this stupid fucking game ever again!”

It’s one of the only times the only child in me really comes to the fore and it ain’t pretty. I wish I could control it, I really do. But fuck me I hate losing. Always have, always will.

Flip back to the game and I’m focussing my entire being on J-Rab as she starts flipping the last card. I have to win. It has to be a 7, there is just no fucking way it can’t be.

And it is.

“All in,” I say, confidently stripping butt naked for the second time and getting ready to rake in my riches.

“Ok, what did you make?” she asks, totally unfased.

“Straight! Five, six, seven, eight, nine! What did you make?”

“I also got a straight!” she says, practically bouncing on the bed with joy. “Six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

I don’t remember much of what happened after that except for one particularly poignant moment when, half-way through trying to smother myself with my own pillow, I rolled over, completely naked, and told J-Rab that this was a new low for me.

Never play strip poker with the devil kids. It won’t end well.

Except if you make it best of three, man the fuck up and actually start playing like a human instead of a goddamn chimpanzee which, needless to say, I did.

It was a long, gruelling battle but sometime around 2 in the morning I did eventually win the horns off her head, they were the last thing she gave up, but I let her put them back on for what followed

-ST