Calling The #Poker Clock Part 1

I was playing that poker once dears, a poker tournament at a casino or other such like scenario. Anyway I’d made my standard out of position raise with J2 unsuited when some fucker decided to go all-in! My tournament life was at stake here so I had to decide whether or not to call. Clearly I had a premium poker hand so a lot of you would think that the call would be obvious. I, however, being a way above fucking average player am a bit clevererer than that – there was a metagame in play here.

The bloke who’d gone all-in had done so 4 times before in the past 2 hours and had shown aces each time while folding every other hand so the guy came across as a bit of a maniac. I, on the other hand, had J2 offsuit thus owning two live cards and two seperate flush and straight draws, in other words I had him by the bollocks. The only problem was that he might get lucky and as a small ball player I wasn’t keen on getting all my stack over the line just yet. If you don’t go all-in you can’t end up all-out as some cunt once said.

It was quite a conundrum so I obviously had to think things through properly. The whole table went quiet, seemingly understanding the momentous choice I needed to make. The whole table, that is, except some prick who shouts at the dealer to put a clock on me. Put a fucking clock on ME indeed! I’d never heard such fucking nonsense before. I had an important fucking decision to make and didn’t need some cunt who wasn’t even in the hand taking fucking liberties. I’ve rarely known such rage, and I’ve been told to have a great day by a yank in a purple suit so I know what fucking true physical anger is. The dealer put the fucking clock on me while I seethed in my seat and with half a second to go I went all-fucking-in.

The cunt who’d pushed had aces again – AS I SUSPECTED – and despite me hitting a 2,2,2 flop the jammy wanker hit aces on the turn and river for quads over quads. WHAT A FUCKING CUNT! I retired to the bar having given the clock fucker a withering look. I’d never had a clock called on me before and didn’t intend to again I can tell you. I bombed down a load of Pimms at the bar and waited for clock cunt to get knocked out, he never did because in fact the prick won the whole fucking tournament.

He took his cash and walked out into the street, seemingly headed for the taxi office across the road. I followed him and in the office waited for him to request his cab before requesting a similar destination. He noticed me, shook my hand and suggested that we share, hoping that there’d be no hard feelings between us. I agreed instantly and within a few minutes we were in ‘our’ street. We got out and said our goodbyes and I walked a few steps away from him before stopping. I turned and watched him walk to his door and get his keys out. Before he could open the door I’d twatted him with a bit of pipe I’d found on the floor sending the arsehole unconscious instantly before dragging him inside.

Part 2

 Come and play with Eileen at Carbon Poker.

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