You're either born a gambler or you're not. And if you are, you better make sure you're damn good at it.
When Joey opened his eyes, he found himself right back in Angelo's poker room.
'Huh...didn't I just leave this place? Have those no good mobsters finally decided to kidnap me for my organs?' Joey always assumed the worst in people.
'Wait...something's weird.' He noticed the light in the room was strangely hazy.
He looked down. His hands and feet were huge and black. His torso had become narrow and long, emblazoned with the mark of the ace of spades. No, he had become the ace of spades.
'What the hell is going on?'
At this time, his attention was attracted by a noise. He peered ahead and recognized many of the familiar faces of players and staff in identical predicaments with various cards as their logos.
"The queen! The queen!" They began to scream fervently as they ran back and forth in sync, performing a dance while assembling some formation.
'Do these degenerates have hobbies as cosplayers? Has kidnapping me to force me into LARPing been their goal all along?'
Then, Anwar emerged, dashing across them in a rabbit costume playing the trumpet, like some kind of methhead Miles Davis.
At the tip of their formation, their leader grandly made an entrance. Draped in regal robes, it was Amy, the titular queen of hearts.
'Of course. Of course she is...this must be all her doing.'
Just when things seemed they couldn't get any worse, Joey felt a blast of wind strike his back.
He instantly rotated to catch a streak of Pedro, adorned as the ace of clubs, screaming wildly. More urgently, this human missile was only inches away from his arrival target of Joey's face. "WE MUST BECOME A PAIR!!!"
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Joey woke up, forehead drenched in sweat, gasping in large agonizing breaths.
'Damn, even Alice in Wonderland! Not even my precious childhood memories are safe from those scoundrels!'
He took several minutes to make sure it was not a dream within a dream, finally confirming so with a spin of his trusty top. He let out a deep breath and began to question his sleep schedule, his recent life's choices, and the nature of reality itself.
'I'm going to buy a dreamcatcher next time I pass by the flea market...' Joey was ready to do anything to reclaim a sense of security.
************
Without work at Angelo's, he didn't have much to look forward to. School was never very challenging for him. So like a rushing river, the day passed. Exiting the building, he was surprised to find Craig standing at the gate.
When Craig noticed him, his eyes briefly narrowed and he walked over. "Hey Joey, you've probably heard I run a poker game at my house on the weekends?"
"...Yea, so."
"We're short a player and you should come by."
Joey didn't more than take a look at him to know it was a trap. He looked like a plotter. Craig looked like a man who had recently sat down and plotted.
He wasn't able to guess exactly what Craig had in store. Regardless, he had to admit it intrigued him. He wanted to see what a private game looked like. "What are the stakes?"
"2-5. Friday, 6pm, see you there." Craig left after delivering his invitation.
Joey rubbed his chin. 'What's the worst they can do? For 2-5, I'll just bring a small amount of money and take a look. Worst case scenario, I'll scream rape.' He always had a backup plan.
Now he had something to look forward to...
...
The week ended and it was the night of Craig's game. Joey knew he couldn't bring his entire bankroll so he passed home first and stashed all but 500 of it. Having attended the same school with Craig since very young, he knew where he lived through past school events.
Strolling through Craig's neighborhood, he admired the view. This was the nicer part of Queens. Tree-lined avenues, multi-car garages, and spacious gardens.
Many of the residents had already started putting out their Christmas decorations, as if engaging in cutthroat competition over holiday cheer.
Upon arrival, Joey had to crane his neck to capture the entire visage of Craig's multi-story house.
'It's nice to be rich. I bet their bathrooms have dual sinks and bidets.'
'Should I look for a way to get Craig into serious poker debt and have him bet his house to me?' Joey began to evaluate the perks of the banking industry.
'No...the property taxes and upkeep would make me tear my hair out.' Craig had barely avoided homelessness.
He rang the doorbell and there was Craig, with his yellow dome, looking like if Draco Malfoy quit magic to become a pilates instructor.
"You came, good!" Craig's eyes narrowed. He brought Joey downstairs to the basement.
'Down to the basement, that's 1 box checked for a possible murder.' Joey reached into his pocket to clutch his rape whistle.
Downstairs, he was surprised to see Craig actually had a professional quality poker table not any worse than those in Angelo's club. Nearby, there was a pool table and even a snack table with a wide assortment of food.
'If nothing else, Craig certainly has the makings of an entrepreneur, at least his business sense isn't any worse than that of those no good gangsters.' That's all it took for him to place Craig into the same mental category as Angelo, a future goon.
Joey glanced around. He recognized several of Craig's friends, in addition to several other faces from school, and some strangers as well.
"Alright! Everyone's here, let's start." Craig initiated the game as everyone chose their seats and bought chips.
'The downside of plotting is that if it fails, the feedback damage can be excruciating. Let's see just what they have in store.' He looked forward to the challenge.
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