“Fold.”
“Call.”
“Okay, Mr. Skeeve the Grater. Let’s see you beat this! Dragons full!”
He exposed his hole cards with a flourish that bordered on a challenge. Actually, I had been hoping he would drop out of the hand. This particular individual (Grunk, I think his name was) was easily two heads taller than me and had bright red eyes, canines almost as long as my forearm, and a nasty disposition. He tended to speak in an angry shout, and the fact that he had been losing steadily had not mellowed him in the slightest.
“Well? C’mon! What have you got?”
I turned over my four hole cards, spread them next to the five already face up, then leaned back and smiled.
“That’s it?” Grunk said, craning his neck and scowling at my cards. “But that’s only …”
“Wait a minute,” the player on his left chimed in. “It’s Tuesday. That makes his unicorns wild.”
“But it’s a month with an ‘M’ in it!” someone else piped up. “So his ogre is only half of face value!”
“But there’s an even number of players….”
I told you it was a complicated game. Those of you who know me from my earlier adventures (blatant plug!) may wonder how it is I understand such a complex system. That’s easy. I don’t! I just bet, then spread the cards and let the other players sort out who won.
You may wonder what I was doing sitting in on a cutthroat game of dragon poker when I didn’t even know the rules. Well, for once, I have an answer. I was enjoying myself on my own for a change.
You see, ever since Don Bruce, the Mob’s fairy godfather, supposedly hired me to watch over the Mob’s interests at the Bazaar and assigned me two bodyguards, Guido and Nunzio, I’ve rarely had a moment to myself.