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Antique Fruitwood Card Table
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: For Sale
- Hits: 4851
"You didn't have to shoot him, Colt" he said as he turned over the body lying on the table. "He only had a 3 and a 6. Nothing."
"Dead Man's Hand" said Ned, shaking his head sorrowfully. "3 and 6. Dead Man's Hand".
Hop Singh Joomp, or "Tex" as we called him, had been one of the best Poker players north of the 49th, but this was his last game.
"How much did I win?" I asked jauntily, trying to dispel the pall that seemed to have fallen over the table.
"Thirteen dollars 49 cents, 2 dollars of which are in Canadian Tire Money" said Shade. Shade was his name because of the green visor he always wore when playing cards.
"I think we should cancel poker night" said Ned, always the sourpuss. "That's 4 people you've killed in 4 weeks. I thought it was supposed to be a friendly game.."
"Can you get me another Coconut Rum Cooler, do you think Angel sweetie?" I asked the barmaid, trying to slip one of my newly won Canadian Tire Dollars into her G-String.
Angel was the topless waitress we brought in to serve beer on Poker nights. ....
***
We haven't had a friendly poker night ever since and so I've decided to sell this fine fruitwood antique card table. It's fruitwood because it's not Oak or Pine and what other kinds of wood are there? The pictures say it all. I work odd hours but could be around on the weekend if you're interested, or if you just want to drop around for a friendly game of cards ....
In the Shape of a Boar - Lawrence Norfolk
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Books
- Hits: 1706
Interesting. Some curious ideas curiously woven together (they make sense later) - and self-referential, it's inspired me to do a little research (fact checking? It's made me curious is all).
Looking for home....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1748
I'm with my children, the boy and the girl, and we're going home. It's a grey day, featureless, the boy is walking with us just out of reach, the girl, she's clinging to me, she's sad and crying.
There's a long row of condominium / townhouses, they vary in size and shape but they're all connected. I live somewhere in there, but I'm not sure exactly where, and we climb a flight of stairs to this covered "subway" type platform and she's there. It's her, only she's exaggerated in limbs, extra thin, long, long legs and arms, a slender torso, she's wearing a short skirt and a corset and a Venetian half mask and she's come to surprise me, she's wearing a wide, toothy smile like you might imagine the joker to be wearing....
When she sees us she laughs lightly and runs away down the stairs on the other side, laughs like a Japanese Geisha, then she returns and follows me, talking, prattling. The children don't recognize her, but my daughter is clingy, sad, holding on to my side. She's lost the mask and is prattling to me, talking, trying to make plans for a rendezvous, right now I don't care, walking across the parking lot, an empty field, the town-homes extending off in an endless row to the horizon, I just want to find our home.
Without the slightest trace of irony....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2561
It's a busy day. And at lunch a couple of the servers cut early, leaving the Bosses Nephew and I to finish up.
It's busy, but we can handle it. The owner, he looks for the missing staff, can't find them. I tell them they're gone. And there's a couple of minutes, a couple of minutes only, where we fall behind, the Nephew, he's not so strong, doesn't speak English well enough to answer the phone, he isn't really a big help.
In the evening the boss goes on a tirade. There's the "You fucking lazy bastards" and all sorts of permutations, he's having his monthly rant. Mostly I just ignore it, but it casts a pall over the shift and the staff. He goes on for about half an hour, then "You are all fucking-a taking advantage of my kindness ....".
Customers come in and it's a bit of a relief, he compensates for his earlier tantrum by being extra nice to the customers.
I go for a cigarette. There's a customer pulled up in the back parking lot, he's having some trouble, I walk over to assist him. "Are you wheelchair accessible?" he asks, and as I begin to explain that we'll need to assist him over a short step "No shortage of help" I assure him, he begins to swear, we've misrepresented (in his opinion) our handicapped and wheelchair-accessible options....I walk away. Even I have my limits. He calls me back, apologetic he's assuring me that he still intends to come in for dinner (and I'm not so thrilled, the wheelchair appearing to be the least of his handicaps...).
The customer gets inside (without my help) and the Owner calls me over - "Was he just rude to you guys?" he asks, and I begin to explain and the owner interrupts - "because we don't need any fucking rude-a people around here, we can just-a kick him out..."
Without the slightest trace of irony.
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