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Post by spaniel on Jul 9, 2009 21:48:40 GMT -5
Brittle Boy Item #: SCP-116
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-116 is kept in a 16 by 16 meter cell, constructed of Kevlar, with 1 meter porous rubber padding on all surfaces. No personnel are to enter cell without proper briefing and threat-reduction measures (see Appendix III). Cell is to be monitored at all times by 6 agents, 4 stationed at corner points of cell and 2 stationed with SCP-116. No pointed objects, or intrusive testing equipment of any kind are to be placed in the possession of the agents within the cell. Outside monitoring is achieved using VBS05 class concealed button cameras stationed at high corners in the cell. Outside monitoring is to be carried out by a further 2 agents. If suspicious activity begins, initialize Achilles procedure ∆. All monitoring agents, internal or external, are to undergo bi-monthly IQ tests as well as standard weekly psychiatric analysis. Significant drops in the IQ of agents (≥ 5 pts.) is to be regarded as prolonged exposure and to be treated as outlined in standard Quarantine instructions.
Subject Description: SCP-116 has the outward appearance of a Caucasian male of around 9 years of age. Skin is cauterized and scarred over 98% of body, limbs and head. 116’s bone structure is drastically different from standard Homo sapiens bone layout, and all bones are dangerously brittle. The most distinguishing difference between the human body and that of SCP-116 is the non-existence of joints in the latter. 116 is entirely capable of independent movement, but to do so would cause multiple shattering breaks to all bones affected by said movement. To combat this, 116 shows remarkable self-healing, and over a period of minutes can completely regenerate its rigid bone placement. 116 has shown some language skill since acquisition; however, the only language it speaks is a disrupted and broken version of English in which every word has been replaced with an almost entirely unconnected one. Prolonged attempts to make sense of 116’s speech have resulted in some long-term mental degradation in researchers. There seems to be no pattern to the word replacement, and attempts continue to translate it. Research suggests that 116 may be capable of low level telepathy, which deteriorates the victim’s brain functions over a long period of time.
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Post by spaniel on Jul 9, 2009 21:50:02 GMT -5
This is long but bear with me here. It's part of the SCP series.
Documents recovered from Cell 3.
1-
Transferred from the barracks, finally. The trip took forever, I’d have to guess about six hours, but I couldn’t see, and I fell asleep a few times, so I guess it really could be anything. Four other people on the transport as well, two other men and two women. At least I think so, one of the guys never really talked, but I think it’s a he. Still sore from getting jabbed by a guard, I fell and he really stabbed me with his gun muzzle. Anyway, we’re here now. I assume “we” are, at least. I’m in my own little room, I’m just assuming everyone else is as well. It’s better then the barracks, and a ton better then the cell. Still, it has that feel, where you know nobody really stays here for long, like the vibe you get off a shitty hotel room.
This is not my diary, at least not the “official” one I’m supposed to keep. I’m actually under my cot, writing this and then stuffing it in to the hollow leg of the bed frame. I’m sure they can see me, but it makes me feel better to have a secret. I haven’t had any in a long time, and it makes me feel less like a toy. Security is so tight here, I’ve never seen so many guns and helmets. They even have this special suit for the five of us, and some of the doctors and stuff. There’s this really weird atmosphere here, really…bleak.
2-
Nothing today. Food comes in through a slot in the door. Not bad, really, seems like it has something in it, has kind of a weird iron taste to it. I don’t really get what is going on. Leave it to the government to keep you guessing, even when you really don’t care any more. It’s odd, the walls seem pretty thick, but the one the door is in seems thinner. I can hear some banging around some times, and crying. lots of crying. I listened at the door a while, seeing if I could guess who it was. It was those one sobs…you know the crying a kid makes, when they know they are hurt and don’t understand why? just that empty, hopeless weeping. I wanted to go and pet that kid, let them know it’s ok, that I…yeah.
Anyway, I heard some other stuff, just kind of muffled bumping, then the crying suddenly changed to this…gurgling noise, sounded like they were choking, or…I don’t know. I stopped, and started just walking around my room. I went to listen again after a bit, and it was silent.
Thought about Kate today, which I haven’t done in awhile. I wonder if they allow visiting hours here. If they do, I think I’m going to call her. She might want to visit me now, or even forgive me. I miss her, oddly enough. I still have the scar on my cheek from where she cut me, but I do miss her, in a way.
3-
I am not sure where I am, but it is not a jail. I really don’t think it’s any part of the government either. My door opened today. I mean, just suddenly slid open. There was a little hall, and another doorway at the other end. A voice suddenly came from somewhere, and told me to go to the end of the hall. I walked out, the walls felt like some kind of tile, smooth and grey. I heard other people, faintly, and that crying was a lot louder. Finally, I came out the doorway at the end, and there was a guy in this storm trooper-looking outfit, all black with this smooth black helmet, and he shoved me in to this open room. There were two other armored guys, and pretty soon the other four people from the transport came in from other halls, all wearing the same jumpsuit things as me. There was this big, steel door at the other end of the room, and the crying seemed to be coming from behind it.
The three armored guys told us to listen to their commands at all times, and that if we didn’t, we’d be shot immediately. One of the women from the transport started to cry too, and I tried to go back down the hall, but they grabbed me and pulled me back. One opened the door, and the crying got really loud. They told me that we all had to do what they told us, or we would be shot. He had a gun to my head, I could feel the metal, it was very cold. He said he would kill me.
It was a hospital room behind the door, kinda. Lots of medical stuff, but other things, too. I mean, it was not hospital stuff, like belts and balls, straps. There was a big gurney bed in the middle of the room, with all these tubes and stuff, and machines…
She was on it. I don’t know how old she is, I could barely see her face over her…I don’t even know if it was her belly. I think it is, but it was so…bulbous, and swollen and the skin seemed like it was too thin. But she was so…pretty, and smooth, but she kept crying, and saying to take it out, that it hurt, that we need to take it out. I started getting scared, but the guards pushed me and the others closer, and they started telling us what we had to do.
The woman who had started crying freaked out, and one of the guard hit her with the butt of his rifle. I was so scared. They said we had to, that we had to do this. I felt a shotgun in my back, I could hear him pump the slide. I had to. I didn’t have any choice, not any of us. She noticed us, and started screaming, but one of the guys put a hand over her mouth, hard. I touched her. She felt like she had a fever, but she was so smooth and soft. I tried to ignore the others, and that big…thing on her, and just see her hand, her little hand, and kiss it, show her I cared…
She screamed a lot. I didn’t get excited, even when the quiet guy from the transport did…things with her. I didn’t. Afterward, one of the guards made us all leave while they wiped her down, and we went back to our cells. Nobody really talked or looked at each other. She has such soft hands.
4-
I woke up screaming on the floor. I don’t remember what I dreamed. I have sores on my face and hands, and other places. They’re red and really tender. I got scared, and the voice came on, told me that it was normal to get the sores, that I would be fine. They look nasty, kind of soft and pulsing a little, but they don’t really hurt. They actually…I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like a sore tooth, it hurts, but then when you push it, it changes and has this “sweet” to it.
The door opened today, and I went down the hall, with the others. They seemed more focused today in the room, and we all have the same sores. One of the women was breathing heavy. The guards opened the door, and I went in with the others. I took off the top of my jumpsuit because my sores started to hurt. Just the top, nothing more, because she was crying again, but I told her that it was ok, that I would take care of her. I asked a guard what her name was, and he told me to never ask again or he’d shoot me. Her skin was feeling so soft, and she was so hot and welcoming. The others took the things the guards gave them, but I didn’t want to, and they said ok.
I whispered to her skin, and told her how much I cared, how I didn’t mind about her stomach, I even kissed it to show her, just once, and so quick it was like it never happened, really. The skin was so tight and hot, it almost burned, but it was also kinda springy, and she moaned when I did it, I think she appreciated me doing it, to show her I wasn’t like those others. One of the guys hit her sort of hard on the mouth, and she started moaning louder, but it wasn’t like the one she did for me, so I told him to stop. He shouted at me, and I curled up to her skin and told her not to worry while I felt her soft palm, and he tried to hit me and the guards pointed their guns at him. He went away, and I kept telling her I would make it better, and her little hands were so soft. The sores didn’t feel so bad.
They made us go away again while they cleaned her, and we went. one of the women suddenly stopped in the other room, and threw up all over. I went down the hall, because it smelled very bad, and there were squirming things in it and she started crying again. The guards took her back to her room because she didn’t want to walk, and I could her the girl on the bed moaning and screaming about something moving, and that it hurt so much. I tried to go back, but they made me leave too.
I listened to her cry again, but it sounded softer. I think I am helping her. I felt good when I listened. I took off my jumpsuit, because the sores had gotten a little bigger, and the suit felt dirty. They look like kisses. I dreamed of her softness, of making her smile up at me.
5-
The marks are softer, and looking more pink. They feel more numb now, and they have some slick stuff on top. It tastes odd, but sweet and salty. I rubbed them a little and I felt that “sweet” thing more. They have little blue veins around them. My skin feels soft, I like it, so I didn’t put on my jumpsuit today. I didn’t get any food out of the door today. I drank a lot of water, and rubbed some on my skin. When the water touches the sores, they pulse. The door opened, and I went down the hall. the walls felt funny, kinda rough on my skin. I got to the room and remembered I didn’t have anything on, so I thought about going back to the room, but a couple of the others didn’t have anything, so I thought it would be ok. The woman who threw up looked like she was half asleep, and her hair was nasty, so I didn’t go near her. The others seem to have the same marks like me, but they complained about them, and the guards told them to shut up and opened the door.
I covered myself with my hands so I wouldn’t scare her, even though she is naked too, but I am a good person and don’t want to make her feel confused or scared ever. I know I do that some times, and I didn’t want to do that to her and the guards laughed at me. The others started to do things to her, but I didn’t see them, I just saw her cute little lips, and I saw they where chapped, so I tried to find water to give her. They didn’t have any, so it told her in her ear that I would find a way, and I felt her press her cheek against mine and I knew she was ok with it, so I licked my fingers and rubbed them on her lips, and then she opened her mouth and they went in, and her tongue was so soft and cool and she made me blush because I could tell how she really felt, even as she cried about the others, and I took my fingers back and put them in my mouth to clean them. Her hand was so warm.
She started to scream and pull at the bed, and her belly started to shake, so I petted it and told her it would be ok, and I felt the skin move and gurgle, and I tried to kiss it to make it better, but she kept screaming and screaming. I was scared I did something, so I held her mouth and put my hand over it and told her I was sorry, I would never touch like that again ever, but she kept screaming and I was scared she would get me in trouble, so I tried to make her be quiet but the guards told me to stop and I just tried to block it out.
One of the women started to scream too, and said she was stuck, and she started to thrash around and hit the girl’s belly and that made her scream louder, and they both wouldn’t stop screaming about the pain, and wanting it out, and her hand coming off, and I curled up under her bed and tried to make it go away, and then I heard some kind of wet noise and the woman screamed louder and then I think there was blood and she fell and then I went in to the dark.
I woke up in my room. I think I had a bad dream while I was with Kate. She is Kate, I think, even if she isn’t looking the same. Kate always loved me.
6-
I did not get any food, but I am ok. More water, lots of water, all over and in. I feel nice and warm, and my skin is soft and smooth. When I pull it, it stays up for a while. I made little peaks on my chest and laughed. Maybe I will show Kate my new trick. I am so glad they let me see her again. The little marks are red now, and they push in really far. the stuff inside is very sweet, I like it.
The floor hurts now, it feels too hard, so I try to stay on the bed, but that is too rough. I miss kate’s skin, and she misses me too. I can hear her crying because I am away, and I try to cry but all that comes out is this milk, but I do anyway. She misses me so much, I can tell, and the others can be so mean to her, but I will help her, I can keep her safe, and she knows. The door opened, and I tried to tiptoe down the hall because the floor is so hard. The woman from my dream was gone, and one of the men, so it was only three people. The other woman looks ugly, she has bags around her eyes and cheeks, and she seems mean and glares at me, so I keep away from her, and the man is quiet too, but I think he is blind because his eyes are funny. Kate was crying for me when the door opened, so I ran to her and her skin felt so good on mine I forgot about my feet and the blood on the floor and I kissed her on the lips because I was so excited, but I pulled back because I didn’t want to scare her.
She was ok, and she moaned and leaned up so I kissed her again and again, and she said to stop and that she was scared, but she meant the other people because I am so gentle, and I told them to stop scaring her, but the guards told me to shut up. I touched her belly and it pulled at my hand as I told her not to be scared and kissed her ear. She touched me and I leaned against her, and the marks moved as she cried and I told her I loved her, and she wasn’t able to say it back because the people were making her moan and cry, but I know she feels it too. I love Kate, and I said I was sorry about before, when I made her cry, and made her mother get so mad at me, but it was ok and her skin made me hurt less and she felt so good.
The other man told me to fuck off because it was his turn, and I told him not to say that around her, and she tried to crawl away from him and he touched her where he is not allowed, so I hit him really hard. My hand felt funny and didn’t look right any more, but I was able to jump over and grab him and show Kate that I would not let him do that. I made his air stop and he tried to hurt me, but I wouldn’t let him and I kept squeezing, and then he stopped and the guards made me let go, which was fine because Kate loves me and I kissed the places he touched to make them better.
She started to scream again, and her belly moved a lot and she said she wanted it out, and I told her to calm down, that I would make it better, but she didn’t listen and I had to hit her to make her stop, but it was ok because I kissed it better and she loves me. I love Kate. The guards made me leave her, and I tried to make them stop, but they were too strong and made me go. My marks are open now, and they like to pull at my fingers how Kate’s mouth did. I like to think they are her, and I close my eyes.
7-
I am so smooth, and I was able to take off some skin today, and it was nice and pink underneath and that is ok, because I don’t want my skin, I want Kate’s skin, I want her soft hands and face. The others are gone, and I was with Kate alone and I told her all the things I needed to, and we were together and her belly pulled at me and I stuck, and when I came away I left my skin like a gift, and now I am soft like her, and my teeth feel so soft and springy when I bite her.
She loves whenever I touch her, and she barely screams, and when she does I help her stop but the guards make me stop and I scream at them too. I hate them but I love Kate.
8-
She wants me to be there, that is why it is so big, so I can stay there. she tried to put me there, but I was scared but I am not now and I love her forever. she is so hot inside, I will be safe.
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Post by Septic Sceptic on Jul 17, 2009 9:17:58 GMT -5
Your phone rings, and it's a number you don't recognize. You pick up the phone regardless. The voice say "Can I have five minutes of your time?" You answer "Fuck off American pig, smart Russian not so easily fooled." You feel itch in your throat. You try cough it out, but it just won't come. You struggle and forcing yourself to vomit. You drink lots of vodka, but whatever it is, its just stuck there. You go see doctor and he say you have tuberculosis, you die next week, your family no can afford funeral. Such is life in Russia. In Soviet Russia, TB catches you!I'm sorry, I'll contribute something now. Candle CoveNetNostalgia Forum - Television (local) Skyshale033 Subject: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Does anyone remember this kid’s show? It was called Candle Cove and I must have been 6 or 7. I never found reference to it anywhere so I think it was on a local station around 1971 or 1972. I lived in Ironton at the time. I don’t remember which station, but I do remember it was on at a weird time, like 4:00 PM. mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? it seems really familiar to me…..i grew up outside of ashland and was 9 yrs old in 72. candle cove…was it about pirates? i remember a pirate marionete at the mouth of a cave talking to a little girl Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? YES! Okay I’m not crazy! I remember Pirate Percy. I was always kind of scared of him. He looked like he was built from parts of other dolls, real low-budget. His head was an old porcelain baby doll, looked like an antique that didn’t belong on the body. I don’t remember what station this was! I don’t think it was WTSF though. Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Sorry to ressurect this old thread but I know exactly what show you mean, Skyshale. I think Candle Cove ran for only a couple months in ‘71, not ‘72. I was 12 and I watched it a few times with my brother. It was channel 58, whatever station that was. My mom would let me switch to it after the news. Let me see what I remember. It took place in Candle cove, and it was about a little girl who imagined herself to be friends with pirates. The pirate ship was called the Laughingstock, and Pirate Percy wasn’t a very good pirate because he got scared too easily. And there was calliope music constantly playing. Don’t remember the girl’s name. Janice or Jade or something. Think it was Janice. Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Thank you Jaren!!! Memories flooded back when you mentioned the Laughingstock and channel 58. I remember the bow of the ship was a wooden smiling face, with the lower jaw submerged. It looked like it was swallowing the sea and it had that awful Ed Wynn voice and laugh. I especially remember how jarring it was when they switched from the wooden/plastic model, to the foam puppet version of the head that talked. mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? ha ha i remember now too. do you remember this part skyshale: “you have…to go…INSIDE.” Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Ugh mike, I got a chill reading that. Yes I remember. That’s what the ship always told Percy when there was a spooky place he had to go in, like a cave or a dark room where the treasure was. And the camera would push in on Laughingstock’s face with each pause. YOU HAVE… TO GO… INSIDE. With his two eyes askew and that flopping foam jaw and the fishing line that opened and closed it. Ugh. It just looked so cheap and awful. You guys remember the villain? He had a face that was just a handlebar mustache above really tall, narrow teeth. kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? i honestly, honestly thought the villain was pirate percy. i was about 5 when this show was on. nightmare fuel. Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? That wasn’t the villain, the puppet with the mustache. That was the villain’s sidekick, Horace Horrible. He had a monocle too, but it was on top of the mustache. I used to think that meant he had only one eye. But yeah, the villain was another marionette. The Skin-Taker. I can’t believe what they let us watch back then. kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? jesus h. christ, the skin taker. what kind of a kids show were we watching? i seriously could not look at the screen when the skin taker showed up. he just descended out of nowhere on his strings, just a dirty skeleton wearing that brown top hat and cape. and his glass eyes that were too big for his skull. christ almighty. Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Wasn’t his top hat and cloak all sewn up crazily? Was that supposed to be children’s skin?? mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? yeah i think so. rememer his mouth didn’t open and close, his jaw just slid back and foth. i remember the little girl said “why does your mouth move like that” and the skin-taker didn’t look at the girl but at the camera and said “TO GRIND YOUR SKIN” Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? I’m so relieved that other people remember this terrible show! I used to have this awful memory, a bad dream I had where the opening jingle ended, the show faded in from black, and all the characters were there, but the camera was just cutting to each of their faces, and they were just screaming, and the puppets and marionettes were flailing spastically, and just all screaming, screaming. The girl was just moaning and crying like she had been through hours of this. I woke up many times from that nightmare. I used to wet the bed when I had it. kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? i don’t think that was a dream. i remember that. i remember that was an episode. Skyshale033 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? No no no, not possible. There was no plot or anything, I mean literally just standing in place crying and screaming for the whole show. kevin_hart Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? maybe i’m manufacturing the memory because you said that, but i swear to god i remember seeing what you described. they just screamed. Jaren_2005 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? Oh God. Yes. The little girl, Janice, I remember seeing her shake. And the Skin-Taker screaming through his gnashing teeth, his jaw careening so wildly I thought it would come off its wire hinges. I turned it off and it was the last time I watched. I ran to tell my brother and we didn’t have the courage to turn it back on. mike_painter65 Subject: Re: Candle Cove local kid’s show? i visited my mom today at the nursing home. i asked her about when i was littel in the early 70s, when i was 8 or 9 and if she remebered a kid’s show, candle cove. she said she was suprised i could remember that and i asked why, and she said “because i used to think it was so strange that you said ‘i’m gona go watch candle cove now mom’ and then you would tune the tv to static and juts watch dead air for 30 minutes. you had a big imagination with your little pirate show.”
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Post by DeadpanDoubter on Jul 17, 2009 13:46:14 GMT -5
Felt
Five hundred twenty six dollars and thirty four cents.
This is my paycheck after two weeks of full-time employment at the Thrift-Sak. It’s enough to pay the rent, two tanks of gas, and the car insurance on my jalopy of a ride.
My apartment is a complete shit-hole. When Sandra used to come over, she told me that the cockroaches were complaining. She was always kind of funny like that until she didn’t have a face anymore. She stopped talking, eventually. I should feel awful that it happened, but I really have no right to complain.
Four thousand, nine hundred dollars.
The sun is starting to crest over the city line, but that’s what I won last night. What did it cost me, exactly?
Two packs of Marlboro lights (in a box), a Rockstar energy drink, and Sandra’s face.
It wasn’t my fault that they got her, really. I played to the best of my ability, and so did she. She’s always been one hell of a card player, let me tell you, but maybe she caught the wrong river card on the wrong hand. Maybe I’m ten percent better than she is. Or, maybe, I just got lucky. Ask me if I got lucky, and I’ll tell you…. I did, okay? I GOT LUCKY.
It’s 5:43am and I have to be at work at the Thrift-Sak in seventeen minutes. I’m parked outside it, now, contemplating on whether I should go in or not. I’m leaning towards no. After all, I’m living in the fast lane now. I made my breakthrough, but not in a way that I’d thought possible.
People all over America play poker. Some for fun, some for sport, some as an excuse to see a hot girl take her clothes off, and some to make a living. I wanted to be that person for the longest time. Last night, I found a game with the highest stakes I’ve ever encountered, and now, I’m thinking it’s possible that I could be upgrading soon. New place, new ride, new haircut.
Their game starts at midnight. Rule number one is that you don’t play unless you bring a friend. Rule number two is that one person leaves a winner. Rule number three is that the game is off unless they get a full table of nine players.
Last night, I was number nine.
The buy-in is not of monetary value. In fact, the entire concept is a little distorted if the only poker game you’ve ever played is in Vegas. The rules are no limit texas hold em, which means that any player can go all-in for their entire chip stack at any time. The difference is…. you don’t buy your chips.
Your ultimate goal is to win money. When you’re invited, you know what the pot amount will be. Last night, it was four thousand nine hundred dollars. Tonight, it’s sixty two thousand, three hundred twenty dollars. Why the sudden increase, you ask? Because they had a winner.
It runs every night except Sundays in the back room of Romantico. It’s one of those fag-hack metrosexual clubs downtown, by second avenue. People in that place are rail thin, and they wear Under Armour, lycra, and every other tight-fitting material that you could think of. Most of them are doped up on some substance or another. It’s not really my kind of place, but what goes on in the back room is completely discreet. It’s under wraps, per the owner of the property, but it always starts at midnight.
I was never too fond of Sandra in the first place, really. She looked great naked (she has a tattoo of a purple crescent moon on her hip, and she smells like lilacs), but she was always a bitch to work with. She’d only come over if she got too drunk and her shift ended one or two hours before mine. For once, I asked her to go with me to the club to play cards, and she told me to go chop my dick off. I told her which club it was, and all of a sudden, she was all rosy-eyed. I think she’d played poker two times in her entire life. I needed her, to get a chance at the pot. I didn’t care if she lost. She was shitty with her money, anyway.
The room itself is made almost entirely of stone. It’s cold in there, despite the fact that it’s a hundred degrees in early August before the sun goes down. There are broad, sweeping drapes that make a coverlet around the old rock, making a perimeter around the room. There are no windows, no openings whatsoever. The drapes are the brighest, deepest blood red that you will ever see. The candelebras that are scattered around the corners cast an eerie, crimson flamed glow towards the table itself. If you exclude the modern additions, it would look like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story. The Masque of the Red Poker Room, if you feel me.
The table is some kind of black, charred material that looks like a mixture between wood, glass, and ebony. When you fold your hands on it or rest your elbows on the rim, your skin will get warm. Then, you’ll feel hot. Then, it feels like you just ran your hand under a broiling water faucet. For that reason, I usually kept my hands in my lap. I learned to memorize my cards so I didn’t have to peek at them after the first time.
The felt of a poker table can have a surreal, plush feel to it. Like a pool table, except it’s molded over with a top layer of plastic that allows the cards to skim across it easier. This felt was the smoothest and most exotic that I’d ever seen, except that you could feel it moving. Put your chips in the center, place your fingertips on it to raise the edge of your cards… .and I swear you could feel a heartbeat. The surface is peach-colored and smells strongly of women’s perfume. For some reason, touching that felt gives me a hard on. I guess you could say I’ve taken gambling to an unhealthy level.
When you first enter, you’ll think you’ve lost your mind. You’ll see heaps and heaps of chips, but some of them are more of an off-colored white than the others. When it finally hits you, you’ll realize that your chips are made of human bones. All nine of you will exchange a nervous glance with each other before the blinds hit and the clock starts ticking.
When you go all-in, you don’t put any chips in the middle of the table. Instead, you stand up, walk to the back corner of the room, and they put their hands on your shoulders. They’re waiting, you see. To make sure you made the right move…. that you really had the best hand. You’d better be sure. Bluffing in this game will cost you a lot more than your mortgage.
One by one, the people around me would go all in. I was surprised that Sandra was doing as well she did, honestly. People would go to the corner, they’d bust out, and they would leave with the guys in the robes through the back door. I didn’t know who they were. They gave us our chips, they told us to sit, and they got pissed at me when I tried to smoke at the table. They weren’t any different than the fat, cocky pit bosses at the Mirage, really.
I played tight, and I tried to trap people when I knew I had them in a tough spot. I was a table bully, and I was catching some cards. Before I knew it, there were only three of us left, and Sandra had enough chips in front of her to entertain a pack of dobermans for a year. A few minutes later, she knocks out this other poor chap in front of us, and we’re down to two at around three in the morning.
I look down, and I try hard not to let a little smile break the corners of my mouth. I have two kings. “Cowboys,” as some call them… or “danger rangers.” The second best starting hand in poker. Although there are two of us left, the stakes are getting high. We both know that whoever wins this game isn’t going to work at the Thrift-Sak ever again.
What would you do with that kind of hand? You’d go all-in, of course. And that’s what I did…. before the cards even came out. I stood up from my chair, waltzed over to the corner, and the dark robed observers clamped their bony grasps in to my shoulders.
Sandra rises to her feet, as well. She flashes me that stupid, sideways grin that makes me want to spit in her face. “I’m all in too, Dicky-Dog.” She walks over to the other corner, and they have her locked in, as well.
I hate when she calls me Dicky-Dog. My name is Richard. Not Dick. Not DICKY-DOG.
That’s when I saw her cards on the table. She’d turned them face up, like mine. Pocket aces. Bullets. Pocket rockets. The big cheese. The number one best starting hand in no limit hold em. Suddenly, percentages were racing through my brain. I had an eleven percent chance of hitting another king and beating her in this hand. She was an eighty nine percent favorite. I hear a low grunt, hot breath expelling across the back of my neck from the robed figured on my right. Their fingers are crushing in to my flesh, now, even deeper. They know I’ve made a bonehead move, and that I’m probably the next one heading through the gated door. At least I know, either way, that I’m not going back to the Thrift-Sak tomorrow. She’s giddy like a school girl.
The turn card is a three. My winning percentage has just been chopped in half. I now have a six point five percent chance to win. One last draw.
I’ve never been as scared as I was in that moment, but then, the dealer in the black robe laid down the last card. The king of spades. I was saved, and the look of horror and revulsion on Sandra’s face was almost classic. Her little khaki skirt does a poor job of hiding the fact that she’s pissing herself. They must be really digging in to her. The voice that I hear next makes me want to pee on myself, as well. It’s definitely not human.
“Three of a kind kings beats a pair of aces.”
The figure at the table rises to his feet, and he extends his sleeved arm outward, pointing directly at Sandra’s face. For the first time, I can see that his finger is not of human origin. It’s made from the same material as my poker chips.
“We have a winner for this evening. The tournament is over.”
As they escorted me out and the gate came to a close with a slow groan behind me, the last thing I could see was Sandra’s face, twisted in absolute horror. She was missing her lips. I had a briefcase full of money and a head full of images that I will never forget.
It’s 6:28AM now, and I am officially almost half an hour late for work. I toss my Thrift-Sak shirt in the wastebin by the gas pumps, but as I leave, Chaz is pulling in to the parking lot. Chaz is a pretty good worker, and he doesn’t really give me a lot of shit. I like Chaz. In fact, I’ll be inviting him to tonight’s game. He’s never played poker before, but I told him the stakes aren’t terribly high. It won’t even cost him anything to buy in, right?
I’m looking forward to touching that table again. There’s a purple half-moon crescent on it, just at the corner by seat seven. It smells faintly of lilacs.
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