Vegas Bachelor Party Timelion Volume iv

Timelion is a timeline. Just think of it as typo if you don't know what it is. Or scroll down to volume i for more info. By the way want to give a shout to Bake who is recovering from surgery right now. Get well, Bake.


Early am at Caesers, let's call it 4 am: SuperBill arrives to near empty poker room. There is a 2-4 limit game going on with two players and a dealer. There is a jammed packed 1-2 game. SuperBill gets in the cue for the 1-2 game. Two or three seconds have passed, so he's bored. The nice man and woman at the 2-4 game hope SuperBill doesn't see them. They look like the kids in class that didn't do the reading and are praying the teacher doesn't call on them. Seeing this, SuperBill of course gets a rack of whites and sit down at the 2-4 game. Yes, it's 3 handed. Yes, there is probably only $80 on the table. And yes, SuperBill is going to steamroll this action.


4:01 am: One of SuperBill's powers is a sense of knowing when someone doesn't like him. Maybe he's just good at playing the averages with 99.9% in one corner and the other .01% in the other. Within one hand he senses the dealer falls into the larger group. She immediately hates him. Maybe it's the swagger, maybe it's the bravado, maybe it's the drunkeness.


4:02 am: For the hell of it, SuperBill accuses the two other players, in a 2-4 game no less, of colluding. SuperBill finds great humor in this on the inside, but appears earnest on the outside. They are, as people often are in SuperBill's presence, confused.


4:03 am: SuperBill continues with this absurd line of thought, isinuating his opponents are throwing signs and after asking the unsympathetic dealer to agree with him, she pleads "No English." He asks her what her name is. She doesn't reply but moves her stringy hair away from her name tag.

It reads JoAn. Very "No English."

SB: Jo An?

J: Joan

SB: No, we pronouce that Jo An (despite her anglo features and anglo name she says she speaks "No English" so SuperBill needs to enlighten her).

J: Joan

SB: Jo-ANNE. See two Capital letters. That's Jo. That's Anne. JoAnne.

J: Joan.

She steals a furtive glance to the floorman who is boredly stroking his mustache. SuperBill follows her eyes to the gentleman and is immediately envious of said stache. Floorman feels their eyes and arches an eyebrow. Before the dealer can speak...

SB: Solid stache. Well worn. Well worn. Very robust.

FM: Why thank you.

SB: Very robust. Huh?

As much as the table wants to disagree with SuperBill they can't help but acknowledge with nods that is a very robust moustache.

SB: Verily.

4:05 am. The woman and man who obviously don't know each other and very clearly can not be married unless this Vegas lifer schlub married WAY out of his league drag a pot or two. In the next hand, SuperBill after much deliberation, remember this is a 2-4 limit game, makes a "HUGE" laydown. The man shows a bluff. Bluff was a winner, but they don't need to know that. SuperBill is first to act. Looks at them both suspiciously,

SB: You are one of those husband and wife teams I hear about.

Man (rosy with the assertion this woman would be blind enough and desperate enough to lie down with him): Oh, you think so? (He guffaws. I never really knew exactly what a guffaw was until seeing him do it, kind of like a laugh but not, it was a guffaw most definitely. In the obscenity cases of the 80s it was determined you couldn't define obscenity but you'd know it when you saw it. I've seen plenty of obscene things, while SuperBill has yet to seen the obscene, he'd say titillating yes, obscene never... anyway, a guffaw works the same way, I can't define it but the guy was doing it, and doing it excessively. It was like when you hit the wrong link and got to an adult site, and the adult site had very odd things. Anyway, this wasn't a matter of seeing dudes in leather chaps with hobby horses, guaze and super slinky, this was a guy guffawing clearly delighted by SuperBill's assertion, though it'd be easy to picture in him full leather regalia).

Woman (disgusted with the notion of somehow being in the schlub's range): No WE are not!

SuperBill (eyeing his cards as if there was a decision to make): No, I think you are. What do you do wait til some drunkard shows up late night and then play two on one?

Man: guffaw, guffaw, guffaw.

Woman (gives her first, but the night's 2nd furtive glance, this one aimed at the dealer, who throws her own at the floorman who continues to stroke his moustache and surrepticiously smell his fingers): We are not cheating.

SuperBill: I'll lay this down until I get a feel for this table. You better not fold to the big blind.

Man: guffaw, guffaw, guffaw.

SuperBill leaps up and approaches the 1-2 table.

SB: You guys got a seat?

Table (thinking oh look at this sucker): No.

Table Wiseacre: We'll make room for you. Are we allowed to do that? (Clearly a snide and rhetorical question, that dealer of course takes literally and calls over the floor to ask if they can play 11 handed).

SuperBill's dander is up. A wiseacre, delicious. Table chortles, similar to a guffaw but more annoying. Dander is now very high, SuperBill will not be out done.

SuperBill (walks over to the table and points to everybody one by one): I'll take your money, I'll take your money, I'll take your money, I'll take your money... uh, actually no I won't, you look like one of those internet kids, you'll take my money but that's okay because I'll take his money, I'll take your money, I'll take your money, can't take your money cause you are too scared of me you won't play me in any pots, but I'll take that guys money, he's tilting right? (and pointing at the table wiseacre) and you, better pack those chips a snack because they are coming over to uncle Bill's for a sleep over.

Floorman, clearly floored by the robust mustachio compliments plyed on him by SuperBill watches in amusement. Then he ignores the idiot (that would be SuperBill if you aren't following) completely as though he wasn't calling out 9 people mid action and tells the dealer SuperBill would have to wait for a seat to open.

-Table shoots 11 more furtive glances to SuperBill's new ally, who is back to stroking his stache and smelling his fingers. Table despises SuperBill.

Perfect.

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