Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Fiction


The following is an excerpt from the novel tenatively titled Poker Face, by Judy Gaga

Listen carefully. There are nine people sitting at this table and one of us is going to win a lot of money tonight. There's also a dealer, who is not supposed to talk aside from calling out the stakes. But he's only human, so sometimes he does. He really doesn't say much, but it's very important that you pay attention to every detail possible.

The game is starting. The dealer deals and I get a 5 of clubs and a 2 of spades, so I fold and this gives me time to look around and evaluate my competition. You've got to be very careful when you do this because snap judgments could lead to some pretty terrible mistakes later on. Especially with women. I have a hard time reading women. I've got five sisters and a mother, each one worlds different from the others, and I tend to classify women into types based on the six examples I grew up with. I do it subconsciously. In the real world I've never met anyone as crazy as any of the women in my family are but I also know better than to think that there are only six types of crazy. There are as many types of crazy as there are women. And that's why I'll never get married, ha.

There's only one woman here at this table tonight and she's sitting directly across from me. And trust me it's not the worst view a guy could have, ha ha. She's small and thin with an olive complexion and she's deciding whether or not to fold. She does this shifty, side to side thing with her exotic looking green eyes as she flips her long dark hair and I think she looks sharp. Smart. She seems like the quiet type and if I were ever to get married she's the kind of woman I would want to do it with. She calls and I knew she would. Or else I think I knew she would. You see? Snap judgments can kill you off early, they really can. The hair flipping is something to watch out for. But I'm glad she's sitting across from me and not the fat slob to my left who looks like he split half his lunch between himself and his shirt.

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