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xp_logsThe boys get together for what will become an as-available tradition - drunken poker. (Highly, highly backdated.)
The counter was stocked with plenty of snacks and the sink was stoppered and filled with ice and beer in lieu of an ice chest or cooler. Matt was not really trendy or into decor, he was into functional and this functioned. Music played softly on the TV and the table was set for poker with several sets of the braille cards he needed to play the game. "Alright, get what you need so we can get playing. I need to win your money!" he greeted the other guys as they arrived. Tonight it was $5 poker, where they did not play for big bucks.
Doug was dealing for the night, given his edge at reading body language. While he could try and handicap himself with not looking at the other players, at a certain point it would wind up being like not thinking about the elephant. Better to just deal, drink, and talk a lot of shit. "Where's the vodak," he asked as he riffled the cards between his fingers. Really, this would make good rebuilding of fine motor control in the nanite hand, so added benefit.
"Incoming," Clint called from the counter where he'd been making drinks. "I've been told this is the purple drank by reliable sources. I don't know what the actual color is, but it's tasty." Turning around, Clint carried a tray of glasses, all filled to the brim and light on ice, to the table. "And here we go." Pushing the lone bowl of pineapple across the table toward Kyle, he continued, "Those've been soaked in vodka, so y'know. Enjoy."
"Fuck yeah." Kyle stabbed through one of the pineapples with an extended claw, and then popped it in his mouth, chewed and then coughed. "Holy shit, there's soaked in vodka and then there's whatever you just did." He wheezed a little, and then ate another pineapple chunk. "That is... for reals purple." He picked up one of the glasses, took a long drink, and then dropped two more chunks of pineapple in it. "Might as well go for maximum efficiency."
"Cheers, good man," Alex said, grabbing a glass and taking a long sip. It was the best burn. "That is some real burn. Yowch. All righty, we doing this?"
"Purple drank?" Doug elongated the a in 'drank' slightly. "What, like Everclear and purple Koolaid?" But Clint had said it was vodka, so who knew. He snagged a glass and took a healthy swig. "Whoo," he declared. "That is definitely high test." Setting the drink down, he picked up the cards and began dealing. "Five card draw is the game," he announced. He had something of a bias against the Texas Hold'em that had saturated television in the past few years. "Ante up, lads."
Grabbing a glass for himself, Matt drank without comment. "Tasty," he managed. It burned like the tequila with the eel in the bottom. That was the good stuff. Checking the braille on his cards and then on a couple chips, he tossed them in the center of the table, "Bring it, boys."
Doug was definitely enjoying himself - he ought to do things like this more often, he decided. He distributed the rest of the cards and sized up the stack of chips. "Bet's to you, Clinto," he informed his drinking buddy. He took another sip of 'purple drank' and then set it down with the sort of very careful gesture that said he was already well on his way to a buzz.
"Hoo yeah, boys," Clint grinned, putting his 36 ounce, freezer cup down. It was only like a quarter full because, while he could put his liquor away, he wasn't as dumb as he used to be when it came to drinking. Taking a look at his hand, he tapped his fingertips against the table, then slid several chips toward the pot. "Sorry, I feel like I just showed off my white trash carnie a bit too much," he half-laughed.
"Man, you made purple drank, I think you already kinda gave that one away." Kyle said, laughing. He very carefully pulled his cards into his hands, looked at them, at the table, and then tilted his head in exactly the manner of a confused puppy. "Okay, remind me, if these suck I can draw two, or three more?"
"And sometimes people will house rule that you can draw four if you just keep an ace and show it." Doug shrugged, leaving it up to the table at large whether they felt like honoring that particular one. "But if you want to draw, you gotta bet, dude." He cocked an eyebrow at Kyle, trying to decide whether the guy was sandbagging or legit clueless. He was from Montana, it could go either way.
"Not our place to help you with the rules, you should have looked them up before you joined," Matt chided, "You're a teacher, aren't you supposed to know these things?"
Clint snorted and threw a tortilla chip at Matt before saying, "I gotcha, K-Gib. Basically..." And off he went into an explanation of the basic rules. Once he'd wrapped that up, he pointed at Doug and said, "Anything that comes outta that one's mouth is a house rule and those are lies tonight, we're not making this complicated and we're not taking off our clothes. Now ante up -- it's time for me to kick all your asses."
The counter was stocked with plenty of snacks and the sink was stoppered and filled with ice and beer in lieu of an ice chest or cooler. Matt was not really trendy or into decor, he was into functional and this functioned. Music played softly on the TV and the table was set for poker with several sets of the braille cards he needed to play the game. "Alright, get what you need so we can get playing. I need to win your money!" he greeted the other guys as they arrived. Tonight it was $5 poker, where they did not play for big bucks.
Doug was dealing for the night, given his edge at reading body language. While he could try and handicap himself with not looking at the other players, at a certain point it would wind up being like not thinking about the elephant. Better to just deal, drink, and talk a lot of shit. "Where's the vodak," he asked as he riffled the cards between his fingers. Really, this would make good rebuilding of fine motor control in the nanite hand, so added benefit.
"Incoming," Clint called from the counter where he'd been making drinks. "I've been told this is the purple drank by reliable sources. I don't know what the actual color is, but it's tasty." Turning around, Clint carried a tray of glasses, all filled to the brim and light on ice, to the table. "And here we go." Pushing the lone bowl of pineapple across the table toward Kyle, he continued, "Those've been soaked in vodka, so y'know. Enjoy."
"Fuck yeah." Kyle stabbed through one of the pineapples with an extended claw, and then popped it in his mouth, chewed and then coughed. "Holy shit, there's soaked in vodka and then there's whatever you just did." He wheezed a little, and then ate another pineapple chunk. "That is... for reals purple." He picked up one of the glasses, took a long drink, and then dropped two more chunks of pineapple in it. "Might as well go for maximum efficiency."
"Cheers, good man," Alex said, grabbing a glass and taking a long sip. It was the best burn. "That is some real burn. Yowch. All righty, we doing this?"
"Purple drank?" Doug elongated the a in 'drank' slightly. "What, like Everclear and purple Koolaid?" But Clint had said it was vodka, so who knew. He snagged a glass and took a healthy swig. "Whoo," he declared. "That is definitely high test." Setting the drink down, he picked up the cards and began dealing. "Five card draw is the game," he announced. He had something of a bias against the Texas Hold'em that had saturated television in the past few years. "Ante up, lads."
Grabbing a glass for himself, Matt drank without comment. "Tasty," he managed. It burned like the tequila with the eel in the bottom. That was the good stuff. Checking the braille on his cards and then on a couple chips, he tossed them in the center of the table, "Bring it, boys."
Doug was definitely enjoying himself - he ought to do things like this more often, he decided. He distributed the rest of the cards and sized up the stack of chips. "Bet's to you, Clinto," he informed his drinking buddy. He took another sip of 'purple drank' and then set it down with the sort of very careful gesture that said he was already well on his way to a buzz.
"Hoo yeah, boys," Clint grinned, putting his 36 ounce, freezer cup down. It was only like a quarter full because, while he could put his liquor away, he wasn't as dumb as he used to be when it came to drinking. Taking a look at his hand, he tapped his fingertips against the table, then slid several chips toward the pot. "Sorry, I feel like I just showed off my white trash carnie a bit too much," he half-laughed.
"Man, you made purple drank, I think you already kinda gave that one away." Kyle said, laughing. He very carefully pulled his cards into his hands, looked at them, at the table, and then tilted his head in exactly the manner of a confused puppy. "Okay, remind me, if these suck I can draw two, or three more?"
"And sometimes people will house rule that you can draw four if you just keep an ace and show it." Doug shrugged, leaving it up to the table at large whether they felt like honoring that particular one. "But if you want to draw, you gotta bet, dude." He cocked an eyebrow at Kyle, trying to decide whether the guy was sandbagging or legit clueless. He was from Montana, it could go either way.
"Not our place to help you with the rules, you should have looked them up before you joined," Matt chided, "You're a teacher, aren't you supposed to know these things?"
Clint snorted and threw a tortilla chip at Matt before saying, "I gotcha, K-Gib. Basically..." And off he went into an explanation of the basic rules. Once he'd wrapped that up, he pointed at Doug and said, "Anything that comes outta that one's mouth is a house rule and those are lies tonight, we're not making this complicated and we're not taking off our clothes. Now ante up -- it's time for me to kick all your asses."
