The ultimate poker prop bet

Do you accept the wager sonny, do you accept the ultimate poker prop bet?

I nodded yes, what else could I say?

Doyle Brunson then said I take the challenge. I shall be laughing all the way to the bank.

And the grave! Thought I

Doyle’s lost it! I could hear in the crowd.

“You have lost it Doyle. And the ultimate poker prop bet.”

It started with the classic last longer prop bet involving Doyle Brunson. The prop bet being will I last longer in this tournament than Doyle Brunson will live? You always fancied your chances but “the old cunt just will not die, he will live forever” was said a bit too loud and the old cunt on the table next to me overheard.

Doyle Brunson turned round, well he wasn’t going to get up was he unless the old piss bag was about to burst and cause a Doyle Tsunami all over the poker tables, with the yellow chips swept away. I was hoping Doyle Brunson would get up and berate me and so were a few other people. Hoping Doyle Brunson would go apoplectic and burst something. I was ready to pounce and catch the fallen hero if he did, imagine the fame!

Doyle Brunson didn’t go Fukushima on me and he did something worse, he stared at me for a long time and everyone was waiting for him to speak. It seemed like a lifetime and I was sure half way through the stare that he must now be at least 114 years old so I should have won my bet fair and square.

You wanna make a last longer poker prop bet sonny? With me involved in it and betting against ya?

No mate, I already lost too much money betting against you old cun tankerous poker living legend.

I admit it I lost all my bottle and my balls. It is hard to keep your bottle in front of the whole poker world. Wait until it happens to you. Would you run like a girl or use the opportunity to get yourself a few more tournament poker chips and information … what hole cards did they have?

I is in a tight spot. What the fuck can I say or do against an unfortunately living legend like Doyle Brunson? I have to graciously accept whatever punishment it is going to be and hope it does not bankrupt me.

Well sonny, I bet I die before next years WSOP.

That’s not exactly what I was expecting. Although I and lots of other poker pros have lost a lot of money betting on the poker prop bet of who lasts longest and Doyle Brunson, I wasn’t sure how to take a bet when it involved Doyle Brunson himself. I mean he had a rather obvious advantage, if one of his friends or family could collect the bet.

I was so surprised I mentioned this and then he pulled the pin of the frag.

I bet you I will also win a bracelet at next years WSOP.

That’s not exactly what I was expecting and considering that Doyle Brunson wont win another one in his whatever life time he has got left I was totally confused. Expecting trickery I started to get some spunk back in my balls and backbone that had decided to apply for a French residency decided to go back to being British.

I questioned all the devious ways I could thing Doyle Brunson might cheat or somehow do something – cloning, changing his name by deed pole. Perhaps he was Jesus 2 who had decided yet again to spend time with the degenerates but only this time they were poker players. Although of course most of the poker business and affiliates are Jewish so no change there from the tax collectors back in his original Jesus 1 days.

Doyle Brunson wouldn’t answer any of my questions but in the end Doyle Brunson said I would read about his death in the newspapers and websites, I could watch him lying in state, be put into the coffin and buried.

What else could I say but yes?

A few months later Doyle Brunson died. No one was surprised as he had said it would happen. I was playing a poker tournament in the US when Doyle Brunson died and got to go. It was like a state funeral, which in a way it was, a poker state funeral. A crowd of people were lined up to go past Doyle Brunson lying in state. I joined the queue and everyone was watching me.

What should I do? I knew that Doyle Brunson was a crafty old sod, you couldn’t live and win all these years without having a trick or two, or an ace or 2, up your sleeves. I got to where Doyle Brunson was lying in state and the line behind me held back. What was he going to do? Would he desecrate the sanctity of the occasion, of Doyle Brunson?

To fucking right I was going to! I stroked his face and it was cold, chilled. I gave a quick pinch and not a single movement. I quickly as I could checked his pulse and there was none. Fuck. The old cunt was dead. Doyle Brunson was dead! I was checking Doyle Brunson’s coffin to make sure there was nothing dodgy about it but it looked normal size for an old big bastard like Doyle Brunson.

I don’t remember anything about the service, lots of famous poker people came and spoke. Most secretly gutted that they had not been able to rob and connive Doyle Brunson out of his poker bankroll in his dotage, like they had been able to do with many an old gambler who didn’t know what was happening anymore.

I watched very closely as they carried Doyle Brunson into the hearse and to my surprise I was invited along with them. Fuck. Slightly unexpected and perhaps his last laugh. It was a bit awkward but they were fine about it. I had thought Todd Brunson was crying a lot then I realised it was just sweat from his fat brow.

We got to the cemetery and those who wanted to could say a last good bye. I got in the queue to make sure there was no 2nd coffin or extra room or something. Not that I could think what it was. I also chucked in 2 coins so that the boatman would be happy to receive his next visitor. No point taking any chances.

The burial was over quick and then Doyle Brunson was really dead and buried. No river card was going to say Doyle Brunson this time. The only river left was the Styx.

It was time for the biggest poker wake in history, the wake of Doyle Brunson. I should have been celebrating. I had won half the bet. Fuck that I had won the whole bet! So I did party hard. Its not often you win a poker prop bet so easily.

The next day I was feeling rather hung over when the call came.

You what? You what!

Absolute fucking honest mate, check the news!

I did. It seemed the doctors had mixed up the reports and the results. Doyle Brunson had not died, he was in a coma. They had buried alive Doyle Brunson!

But he had to be dead yeah? But he had to be alive to win a bracelet at next years WSOP and win the ultimate poker prop bet?

The Brunson family called me with the news and said did they want to join me in the gruesome task of digging him up. If I did I needed to get there straight away.

They were about halfway down when I got there and after a short while a spade full of dirt came up and I could see 2 coins in it. They were that close. Then the thunk. They pulled Doyle Brunson’s coffin out quickly and after a quick pause opened it up. It stank of stale air and piss. No clue to if Doyle Brunson was dead or alive there then.

Then the old cunt started to moan and rose up literally from the grave! Doyle Brunson was not dead. And the ultimate poker prop bet was still on.

How had he done it? How had Doyle Brunson cheated death and cheated me out of half the ultimate poker prop bet? I don’t know about the coma bit but I know that the coffin had no extra oxygen tanks or anything like that. I guessed he had either in the coma, if he was ever in a coma, breathed very shallowly or he had learned to shut his body down and conserve oxygen like that.

But he still had to win the WSOP bracelet, not a chance of him doing that.

Until the created a special living legends WSOP event with a bracelet up for grabs. Open to a select few old cunts.

The cunts.

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