It was a warm summer's evening
and I was on a train. I had forgotten to check before I boarded where it was going, so far as I was concerned we were bound for nowhere. Sitting across the carriage from me was a man who looked as tired as I was. We were both too tired to sleep. He had a poker set with him, so I deduced he must be a gambling man. As we both stared out of the window into the darkness of the night, we were overcome by boredom. The tired man turned to me and began to speak.

He said, "Young man, my life has been characterised by my talent for reading the expressions on people's faces. I'd know what their cards were, by the subtle messages conveyed through their eyes. I hope you don't mind my interference, but I can see you're out of aces. I'll give you some man to man advice in exchange for a drop of that bourbon."

So I handed him my bottle, and he finished the lot. Then the cheeky cunt bummed a cigaratte. Then he asked me for a LIGHT! The night was deathly quiet, for I was about to punch this freeloading old bastard in the schnozz. His face lost all expression, which I put down to the large glug of whiskey he had just chugged.

But he said "If you're gonna play the game boy, you'd better learn to play it right. Knowing when to hold or fold a hand can only come with experience. You know, knowing when to walk or run away? And another thing, boy, never count your money if you're still sitting at the table, there'll be plenty of time for that later."

'Fair enough', thinks I. 'This old drunk is giving me a lesson through the power of analogy not to count my chickens before they hatch'.

But he went on- "Every gambler knows that the secret to surviving is knowing what to throw away, and knowing what to keep. Every hand you get dealt could either win or lose, this of course depends on the hand that your competitors hold. To be honest, my son, the best you could wish for is a peaceful death in your sleep."

'OKAAAAAAAYY', I thought, gingerly edging away, fearing I was to be violated and strangled if I fell asleep. I took some Proplus.

It seemed that the old fellow had finished now, for he had turned back toward the window. He stamped his cigaratte out on the floor.

'Dirty litter bug' I thought to myself.

However, through the gloom, I could see from the old man's face that he was somehow at peace. It was as if he had needed to share his worldy wisdom with some young upstart such as myself.

And he was right. His words had left me wiser. You could say I'd found an ace that I could keep.

The funny thing is, I don't even gamble.....
(Sir General ***WoW***, Fri 8 May 2009, 14:45, 3 replies)

Hahah, nice one Kenny Rogers
The Gambler ;)
( Jessie © needs pirate name suggestions, Fri 8 May 2009, 15:48, closed)

At least
one person got it .... hehehe
(Sir General ***WoW***, Fri 8 May 2009, 17:52, closed)

I didn't get it
but I did laugh a lot at the insult "the dirty litter bug". It's so completely non-offensive that it's amusing, and I shall be using it from now on.
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Mon 11 May 2009, 15:12, closed)