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SmokerForPeace

I squinted my eyes at the glare from my boots. They shined from the recently given polish that I applied a few days earlier. I was sitting in an old dusty tavern doing everything but anything to pass the time until my train left. I’d been in this town for a few weeks, for no particular reason. I pointed the town out on my old creased map that I’ve had for years and decided that that was my destination. The map’s cover was faded and on one corner was a burn mark from when a candle was knocked onto it during a bar brawl. Every mark, every detail, tells a story.

I was the last of a dying breed made up of lonely vagabonds. We traveled the train tracks from one small town to another. Searching for something, but not being sure of what it was. We were the failed protocols of God’s great plan for civilization. Some of us had no home and others wanted no home.

I sat there sipping on my half glass of whiskey and reminiscing of the day I won my boots. The boots I had one were my one prized possession in a world of dust, dirt, and train hopping.
I’d won them at a county fair a few years ago back in Wyoming. It was the middle of July and a scorching hot day. The kind of heat where it becomes miserable to move, you just sit there waiting for the evening to breeze in. The type of day where your shirt clings hopelessly to the your back as you peel the sweat soaked cloth off your sticky body. I remember leaning back in a chair waving my hat in front of my face in an attempt to stay cool. I still had $25 in my pocket from the rodeo earlier that day. The event I won was no great feat, but money is money. I had some loose change from one I purchased a glass of run earlier that day so I decided to play some carnival games. I walked down the ally glaring from one stand to the next, until I found a game that was suitable to waste my money on.

One thing that always puzzled me was the draw towards these rigged games. Everyone in their right mind knew the chances were against them. People played any ways, damn well knowing they most likely won’t win, but the rare chance is there. They hope for their one lucky moment when the light will shine on them and they will walk away a victor. They will walk away as the man who cheated the system and is damn well proud of it. That night happened to be my night, my night to walk away a winner.

I remember seeing a crowd gathering at a booth in the distance. As any curious onlooker would do I walked towards it. Behind a single table was a man of about 5 feet and skinny as a toothpick, but he was huge. The way he talked to the crowd and handled the blank stares made him larger than life. Next to him sat a deck of 52 cards, each side decorated with naked women holding signs with the number and rank on them. I could tell they were nice cards by the smooth rounded edges. The cheap 5cent packs I bought were roughly cut and had jagged corners. This was obviously not your average card player. He was sitting smug in his chair as the crowd formed a half circle around him. He was the center of attention and loving every minute of it. He was shouting and enticing men to step up to the challenge, to battle the master of cards. I watched for half an hour as one victim after the other was defeated. The game was 5-card poker. A game I was familiar with but lacked the confidence it takes to make a winner.

I inched my way up to the table and made eye contact with the champ. “Well lookie here, a town hopping cowboy looking for trouble,” he blared at me. “I don’t want any trouble, just a clean fair card game,” I replied in a calm voice. My confidence irritated him and I could see the steam rising off his plump, baldhead. Most men don’t play well when angry, this was an old trick I learned from a traveling friend on a train. He would anger his opponent until their rational thinking vanished.

I took my seat at the table and pulled up as close to the table as I could. I played a few games with him betting small amounts of money. I won some and lost more. I decided I didn’t want to risk any more money and I asked if he’d like to make things interesting. He seemed interested and I made my offer, “if I win I get to keep those fancy boots of yours, and if you win you can have this gold ring an Indian friend of mine gave to me.” He liked the offer and dealt out the cards. I was stuck with a measly two pair and I know I needed more than that to win. I remembered how I lost most games to lack of confidence so I placed the three non-matching cards face down on the table and asked for three more. It was one draw so this had to be it. I slid the new cards across the table and picked them up. It was hard to keep from smiling once I saw my hand. I had a full house: two 5’s and three kings. My opponent seemed happy with his first hand and refused to draw anymore. We placed our hand face up on the table and compared each other’s cards. I was the victor and that sent my opponent into a cursing frenzy. He slowly slid off his boots and gave them a last good look before I took them in my hands.

I let out a smile as I remembered the joy the boots brought me. I finished my glass of stale whiskey and walked out the door smiling. My train would leave in 10 minutes, a new city, and a new story.

__________________
Cosmic Charley how do you do?
Truckin' in style along the avenue
Dumdeedumdee doodley doo
Go on home, your mama's calling you

 

teco

hey thats good. is that it? is it like a mini story thing?
well if theres more post it! i'd love to read it .

SmokerForPeace

just a short story