Sunday, December 7, 2014

Santa's Good Game - A Christmas Poker Poem

I found a good game
One Christmas Eve night
Where I managed to maim
This poor elf on my right.

His chipstack was short
By the time I was done,
But he was a fine sport
In spite of my fun.

I was playing so well
In my mind I was HERO
'Til the villainous hell
That soon left me with $0.

A large man in seat six
Who was dressed all in red
Learned the tells of my tricks
And filled me with dread.

Each time he said "Raise"
In a voice full of funny
Through my soul he would gaze
'Til I felt like DEAD MONEY.

It was like the man knew
Each move I would make
From each breath that I drew;
In each quiver and shake.

I said "Sir, how is it
that you know me so well?"
Then I started to fidget
Before the man's spell.

He asked "How can it be
that you don't remember
all those cookies you left
for me each December?"

Then he lifted a round
Up to his right ear;
Made it snap with a sound
That filled me with fear.

I thought The Santa I knew
Would never play poker
On the night that he flew.
This clown is a joker!

But his game was no joke
His skill quite apparent
To the table he broke,
All our strategies errant.

Then he roared "C'mon, elf!
We've got work to do!!"
And he gathered himself
and all our chips too.

Before he could leave,
I asked "What's your name??"
"What a fine Christmas Eve
and thanks for the game!"

He said with a turn,
And then they were gone
With our money to burn,
Although fairly won.

"What a hell of a bink!"
I said to the boys,
And the dealer replied (with a wink):
"How do you think he pays for all those toys?"

A little rhyme I wrote for the CardsChat 2014 Holiday Promotion.

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