Chewin in the Chung

The setting: Chaon's living room (or maybe AJ's poker room). The date: About two weeks from now. The time: late at night. Three cards lay face-up on the table. Each player has two cards down in front of him. The center of the poker table is a mass of chips, cigarette ash, and Chaon's watch.

Bread: I bet thirty. (Throwing in his chips so fast that they actually appear shorter and fatter as they fly to the pile)

Rye: Thirty. That’s a bit of a problem. See rumor has it, that Chaon has already called your bluff. And if that philosopher and ah.. lesbian lover has found that kind of nerve…

Red-A: We must be diplomatic.

Rye: And of course Canadians have their reputation to consider.

Bread: Choose your next words carefully. They may be your last as first better.

Rye pauses for a moment, as if lost in thought. He then drains the Taiwan beer he is holding, and slams down NT$1000 on the table center. P.I.M.P. and Kevlar follow suit, knocking an ashtray off the table with the force of their bills hitting the table. AJ stares on, aghast, as he has just finished sweeping the goddam floor three hours ago.

Bread: Madman. You’re a madman.

Rye: Pairs and trips. You’ll find plenty of both in a minute.

Bread: No man. Canadian or Texan. No man bluffs a law student.

Rye: You bring Kodiak Wintergreen and Tums to my city steps. You insult my fantasy baseball team. You mock my people with the Houston Astros and Viagra. Oh I’ve chosen my words carefully barrister. Perhaps you should have done the same.

Bread: This is blasphemy! This is Madness!

Rye: Madness? THIS... IS... HOLD EM!!!