BUGGER YOUR NEIGHBOUR
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed lay another card down on the table, and let out a smile of triumph. It was a Jack. The suit didn't have any significance in this game however… not his game. He had just taught it to the other three, and they had been playing for a little over half an hour now. They were betting, but only pretzels… the only thing they could come up with on such short notice.
The fact that a Jack had been laid made Malcolm quite happy. Unless the person to his left had better luck then he had first thought… he was in for some more pretzels.
"I still don't exactly understand this weird game o' yours, Malcolm," Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III complained, looking down at the pile of face-down cards before him… his cards.
Trip had been complaining since the get go, and Malcolm was certain he couldn't take much more of it. Trip was only complaining because they were playing a British game… one Trip knew none of the rules for, and Malcolm did.
Malcolm motioned at Trip's pile, and then at the face-up pile in the middle of the round table in the mess hall, where they had decided to hold the game, after much debate.
"Look, its quite simple… if you don't lay another picture card, I get the cards already laid down, and I get the… winnings," Malcolm explained.
He had decided that waiting until the end to collect on winning, after seeing who won overall, would take too long, and they would run out of the salty snacks before that time. This was a long game… usually. Malcolm had explained the betting system: whenever you prepared to lay down a card, you bet however many pretzels you felt you wanted to, and if you laid down a card that caused the previous player to win the cards, you lost the pretzel, or pretzels… depending on how confident your bet had been. However, if you lay down a picture card, and the player next to you failed to during their move, then you won the pretzels already bet. The aim of the game was to have all the cards at the end.
It was simple enough to Malcolm, and the two others, but Trip was still having a little trouble.
"What kind of stupid game is this anyway?" Trip mumbled unhappily, looking down with a furrowed brown at his thinning pile, and then the thicker pile of cards already lay down. He looked next to his dwindling supply of pretzels, which he seemed to want to eat, and sighed.
"It's an easy one once you get the hang of it," Malcolm insisted.
It was an old game his cousin had taught him some years ago, called 'Bugger Your Neighbour', which Malcolm seemed to be doing quite effectively in the case of Trip's previous luck. But the player to Malcolm's right was having a surprising amount of good luck theirself, and kept cheating Malcolm out of victory… and cards. The rules were simple: you had to lay down a card, and if it was a picture card, the player to your left had to lay down a certain amount of cards; one for a Jack; two for a Queen; three for a King; and four for an Ace. If, during laying down their designated amount of cards, the player to your left failed to lay down another picture card -which would then take it on to the next player to their left- the player who originally dealt the picture card won the pile.
There was another way to get cards too… by spotting a double once it was laid, and slapping your hand down on it. Whoever did so first, won the cards. Once you lost all your cards, it was effectively the only way to get back into the game.
Malcolm had gone over the relatively simple rules at least three times for Trip, and after quickly running through them once again for Trip this time, he said, "Just lay a card, Commander."
"Fine," Trip grumbled, and took hold of a card, without looking at it -as the rules stated- and laid it face-up on top of Malcolm's Jack. He had already bet a solitary pretzel, as Malcolm had stated. One pretzel was the minimum bet.
It was another Jack.
Malcolm laughed, and Trip smiled.
"See," Malcolm said to the Commander, "do you understand it now?"
"A little. You know, give me Poker or Gin any day, and I could beat you with my eyes closed… but this…" he trailed off with a smile, glancing to the dark-skinned player to his left.
Ensign Travis Mayweather looked a little uneasy.
"Okay," he breathed, taking a pretzel, and tossing it into the little pile of what appeared to be nine pretzels, or thereabouts. "Come on, Queen."
He took the top card off his pile, and tossed into the middle.
A three.
Trip laughed. "That means I get the cards, right?" He looked to Malcolm for confirmation.
"Yes, it does. And the pretzels too." Malcolm accompanied it with a nod, and a slight smile at Travis, who was smiling in the name of good sportsmanship.
Trip scooped up the cards and pretzels, and sorted them out, placing the cards under his thin pile, making it much thicker in appearance. It was another rule that you could not place the won cards on top of your pile. They had to go underneath.
"Can I eat one of the pretzels?" Trip asked, picking it up, looking Malcolm in the eyes.
Malcolm sighed.
"Oh, let him eat one. They are his winnings," said the voice to Malcolm's right… a feminine voice that belonged to one Ensign Hoshi Sato.
Malcolm looked at her, and her expression broke through his resolves. "Fine," he said to Trip. "Eat the damn pretzel. But that's one less pretzel for you to bet, remember?"
"Whatever, Malcolm," Trip laughed. "One less salty treat for you to win too." Trip popped the pretzel into his mouth, and crunched it contently.
It was a complete fluke that the four of them had the evening off together, so Malcolm had seized that opportunity to propose the game. Only Travis remained in uniform, insisting that there was no point in dirtying another set of clothes before bed, and after that, another duty.
The other three were another matter entirely… casual clothes reigned supreme at this particular table.
Malcolm was dressed in a tucked-in red shirt; black trousers; with black shoes, the top button on the shirt undone. His hair was slightly more ruffled than usual, the need for over-tidiness over with for another day.
Hoshi was dressed in an elegant blouse, with intricate Latin writings all over it, and frills at the cuffs; flaring brown trousers; and tall- heeled boots that made her a couple of inches higher than Malcolm, which, in truth, annoyed him only slightly. Her black hair was flowing down over her shoulders; free from the restrictions of the ponytail she always wore on duty. It was shining beautifully in the light, soft in its appearance.
And Trip was probably the most casual of all… he didn't care what people thought of his clothing tastes, which weren't actually all that bad. He wore heavy-duty beige boots, which his dark blue jeans almost covered, and a long sleeved sweater, white in colour, with a large design of some kind on the back. Malcolm had thought it to be a creature of some kind… but what kind of creature he was uncertain. It looked like a dragon, or something similar. Trip's hair was sticking up in every direction, giving the Commander a youthful air. It seemed more blonde than usual.
"Your turn again, Trip," Malcolm told the Commander, who was now seeming to finally understand the rules.
Trip threw three pretzels from his pile onto the tabletop, and lay down a card.
It was a six.
"You're getting off easy, this time," Trip teased Travis, who seemed to swallow dryly.
Trip laughed at the panicked look on Travis Mayweather's face. "I'm joking, Ensign… relax."
"Get on with it already," Hoshi whined, "I want my share of pretzels some time this evening."
Malcolm laughed this time, and smiled broadly at her. "Be patient, Hoshi. I'm sure Travis is just… thinking."
Travis nodded, and placed down a single, solitary pretzel. Trip frowned. It seemed he thought Travis was cowardly all of a sudden, and that braver bets were in order… but he kept his mouth firmly closed.
Travis gently threw a card down on the surface. It was a King.
"Hmm." Hoshi narrowed her eyes slightly, as though this card had not been expected, and looked down at the card pile she owned. She smiled, and placed two pretzels with the others.
"Confident?" Trip wondered, cocking his head, his hair catching the light slightly. The blonde sections were more prominent now. Malcolm suspected it was because more of his thick hair was exposed, before turning his head back to Hoshi to see her response.
"I'm quite confident, yes," she replied, a small smile across her lips. She looked into Malcolm's blue eyes. "I'm praying for a Jack."
She peeled the card off the deck, and slowly turned it over.
She let out a cheer. "Oh my god… a Jack!"
Trip laughed with her, and clapped his hands together loudly. He looked to Malcolm with his sky-blue eyes, and smiled that damn smile of his. "So, Malcolm… ya' gotta ask yerself… do ya' feel lucky?"
Hoshi let out a loud laugh, and threw a pretzel towards Trip, who caught it in his mouth.
They were plotting something, Malcolm thought. But he was probably just being paranoid.
Trip ate the pretzel, and considered Malcolm seriously for a moment.
Malcolm toyed with a pretzel of his own, looking up briefly into the face of Travis, who shrugged in his uniform, and let a smile escape his stoic exterior.
What the hell, Malcolm thought, I've already got plenty of the damn snacks.
He threw two pretzels down on top of those Hoshi had bet, and quickly turned over his next card.
He almost cursed.
It was a two.
Trip and Hoshi laughed again.
"Too bad, Malcolm." Trip seemed to be enjoying the expert player's losing streak, as he watched Hoshi scoop up her winnings.
"She's just getting lucky," Malcolm insisted, momentarily loathing Trip for his smug attitude.
But it was just who Trip was.
Hoshi sorted her winnings, and looked over at Trip, raising an eyebrow slightly, a gesture Malcolm almost missed.
He didn't comment, just kept an eye on the Commander.
Trip leaned over to Travis, and, in a sly voice, said, "I bet ya' Malcolm loses this one too."
Travis seemed intrigued by this proposal, and inclined his head, narrowing his eyes in consideration of the bet. He looked to Trip, and nodded. "You're on."
If Trip wins another bet… I quit, Malcolm thought with a smile inside.
Trip and Travis shook hands on it, and Trip gave Travis' pretzels a look.
Hoshi exhaled rapidly. "Okay… I'm sorted. Ready to try that again, Malcolm?"
Malcolm gave a brisk nod, and prayed that the cards were on his side. Please let her lay down a number, he begged in his head, to no one in particular.
Hoshi placed four pretzels on the tabletop.
"Ooh, risky," Trip commented, dodging a pretzel that was launched in his direction. He laughed.
Hoshi peeled the card off the top of her pile, and slammed it down on the surface of the table.
Malcolm let himself breathe easier. He was out of danger… mostly. At least it wasn't another Jack.
It was an Ace.
"Looks like you might owe me salty snacks some time soon," Travis taunted Trip, taking pleasure in doing so, whilst Trip help back a comment, and simply watched the turn with interest.
Malcolm blew out a breath, and lay down his bet… four pretzels.
He took hold of the first card. A nine.
Three more, he thought confidently. He wouldn't have bet so many pretzels if he weren't confident.
Next card… a ten.
Close, his mind chattered, seemingly taunting him.
Penultimate card… a five.
He could have sworn everyone else was holding their breath, as he reached for the final card.
It was a seven.
"Dammit!" he and Travis exclaimed at the same moment, and Malcolm let his head drop onto the table's surface.
Trip cheered, and high-fived Hoshi over the table. Hoshi laid her hands down on the pretzels and cards, and dragged them over to her.
"Too bad, Malcolm. Your luck changed, I guess." She kept hugging her winnings, as if afraid someone would steal them from her.
Trip was smiling like a child on Christmas, as he accepted all of Travis' pretzels.
Malcolm pulled his head back off the table.
Trip had more betting pretzels than anyone; Hoshi had most of the cards; Travis had no pretzels whatsoever; and Malcolm had been beaten at his own game.
He threw his hands up in defeat.
"Who's for Poker?"
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed lay another card down on the table, and let out a smile of triumph. It was a Jack. The suit didn't have any significance in this game however… not his game. He had just taught it to the other three, and they had been playing for a little over half an hour now. They were betting, but only pretzels… the only thing they could come up with on such short notice.
The fact that a Jack had been laid made Malcolm quite happy. Unless the person to his left had better luck then he had first thought… he was in for some more pretzels.
"I still don't exactly understand this weird game o' yours, Malcolm," Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III complained, looking down at the pile of face-down cards before him… his cards.
Trip had been complaining since the get go, and Malcolm was certain he couldn't take much more of it. Trip was only complaining because they were playing a British game… one Trip knew none of the rules for, and Malcolm did.
Malcolm motioned at Trip's pile, and then at the face-up pile in the middle of the round table in the mess hall, where they had decided to hold the game, after much debate.
"Look, its quite simple… if you don't lay another picture card, I get the cards already laid down, and I get the… winnings," Malcolm explained.
He had decided that waiting until the end to collect on winning, after seeing who won overall, would take too long, and they would run out of the salty snacks before that time. This was a long game… usually. Malcolm had explained the betting system: whenever you prepared to lay down a card, you bet however many pretzels you felt you wanted to, and if you laid down a card that caused the previous player to win the cards, you lost the pretzel, or pretzels… depending on how confident your bet had been. However, if you lay down a picture card, and the player next to you failed to during their move, then you won the pretzels already bet. The aim of the game was to have all the cards at the end.
It was simple enough to Malcolm, and the two others, but Trip was still having a little trouble.
"What kind of stupid game is this anyway?" Trip mumbled unhappily, looking down with a furrowed brown at his thinning pile, and then the thicker pile of cards already lay down. He looked next to his dwindling supply of pretzels, which he seemed to want to eat, and sighed.
"It's an easy one once you get the hang of it," Malcolm insisted.
It was an old game his cousin had taught him some years ago, called 'Bugger Your Neighbour', which Malcolm seemed to be doing quite effectively in the case of Trip's previous luck. But the player to Malcolm's right was having a surprising amount of good luck theirself, and kept cheating Malcolm out of victory… and cards. The rules were simple: you had to lay down a card, and if it was a picture card, the player to your left had to lay down a certain amount of cards; one for a Jack; two for a Queen; three for a King; and four for an Ace. If, during laying down their designated amount of cards, the player to your left failed to lay down another picture card -which would then take it on to the next player to their left- the player who originally dealt the picture card won the pile.
There was another way to get cards too… by spotting a double once it was laid, and slapping your hand down on it. Whoever did so first, won the cards. Once you lost all your cards, it was effectively the only way to get back into the game.
Malcolm had gone over the relatively simple rules at least three times for Trip, and after quickly running through them once again for Trip this time, he said, "Just lay a card, Commander."
"Fine," Trip grumbled, and took hold of a card, without looking at it -as the rules stated- and laid it face-up on top of Malcolm's Jack. He had already bet a solitary pretzel, as Malcolm had stated. One pretzel was the minimum bet.
It was another Jack.
Malcolm laughed, and Trip smiled.
"See," Malcolm said to the Commander, "do you understand it now?"
"A little. You know, give me Poker or Gin any day, and I could beat you with my eyes closed… but this…" he trailed off with a smile, glancing to the dark-skinned player to his left.
Ensign Travis Mayweather looked a little uneasy.
"Okay," he breathed, taking a pretzel, and tossing it into the little pile of what appeared to be nine pretzels, or thereabouts. "Come on, Queen."
He took the top card off his pile, and tossed into the middle.
A three.
Trip laughed. "That means I get the cards, right?" He looked to Malcolm for confirmation.
"Yes, it does. And the pretzels too." Malcolm accompanied it with a nod, and a slight smile at Travis, who was smiling in the name of good sportsmanship.
Trip scooped up the cards and pretzels, and sorted them out, placing the cards under his thin pile, making it much thicker in appearance. It was another rule that you could not place the won cards on top of your pile. They had to go underneath.
"Can I eat one of the pretzels?" Trip asked, picking it up, looking Malcolm in the eyes.
Malcolm sighed.
"Oh, let him eat one. They are his winnings," said the voice to Malcolm's right… a feminine voice that belonged to one Ensign Hoshi Sato.
Malcolm looked at her, and her expression broke through his resolves. "Fine," he said to Trip. "Eat the damn pretzel. But that's one less pretzel for you to bet, remember?"
"Whatever, Malcolm," Trip laughed. "One less salty treat for you to win too." Trip popped the pretzel into his mouth, and crunched it contently.
It was a complete fluke that the four of them had the evening off together, so Malcolm had seized that opportunity to propose the game. Only Travis remained in uniform, insisting that there was no point in dirtying another set of clothes before bed, and after that, another duty.
The other three were another matter entirely… casual clothes reigned supreme at this particular table.
Malcolm was dressed in a tucked-in red shirt; black trousers; with black shoes, the top button on the shirt undone. His hair was slightly more ruffled than usual, the need for over-tidiness over with for another day.
Hoshi was dressed in an elegant blouse, with intricate Latin writings all over it, and frills at the cuffs; flaring brown trousers; and tall- heeled boots that made her a couple of inches higher than Malcolm, which, in truth, annoyed him only slightly. Her black hair was flowing down over her shoulders; free from the restrictions of the ponytail she always wore on duty. It was shining beautifully in the light, soft in its appearance.
And Trip was probably the most casual of all… he didn't care what people thought of his clothing tastes, which weren't actually all that bad. He wore heavy-duty beige boots, which his dark blue jeans almost covered, and a long sleeved sweater, white in colour, with a large design of some kind on the back. Malcolm had thought it to be a creature of some kind… but what kind of creature he was uncertain. It looked like a dragon, or something similar. Trip's hair was sticking up in every direction, giving the Commander a youthful air. It seemed more blonde than usual.
"Your turn again, Trip," Malcolm told the Commander, who was now seeming to finally understand the rules.
Trip threw three pretzels from his pile onto the tabletop, and lay down a card.
It was a six.
"You're getting off easy, this time," Trip teased Travis, who seemed to swallow dryly.
Trip laughed at the panicked look on Travis Mayweather's face. "I'm joking, Ensign… relax."
"Get on with it already," Hoshi whined, "I want my share of pretzels some time this evening."
Malcolm laughed this time, and smiled broadly at her. "Be patient, Hoshi. I'm sure Travis is just… thinking."
Travis nodded, and placed down a single, solitary pretzel. Trip frowned. It seemed he thought Travis was cowardly all of a sudden, and that braver bets were in order… but he kept his mouth firmly closed.
Travis gently threw a card down on the surface. It was a King.
"Hmm." Hoshi narrowed her eyes slightly, as though this card had not been expected, and looked down at the card pile she owned. She smiled, and placed two pretzels with the others.
"Confident?" Trip wondered, cocking his head, his hair catching the light slightly. The blonde sections were more prominent now. Malcolm suspected it was because more of his thick hair was exposed, before turning his head back to Hoshi to see her response.
"I'm quite confident, yes," she replied, a small smile across her lips. She looked into Malcolm's blue eyes. "I'm praying for a Jack."
She peeled the card off the deck, and slowly turned it over.
She let out a cheer. "Oh my god… a Jack!"
Trip laughed with her, and clapped his hands together loudly. He looked to Malcolm with his sky-blue eyes, and smiled that damn smile of his. "So, Malcolm… ya' gotta ask yerself… do ya' feel lucky?"
Hoshi let out a loud laugh, and threw a pretzel towards Trip, who caught it in his mouth.
They were plotting something, Malcolm thought. But he was probably just being paranoid.
Trip ate the pretzel, and considered Malcolm seriously for a moment.
Malcolm toyed with a pretzel of his own, looking up briefly into the face of Travis, who shrugged in his uniform, and let a smile escape his stoic exterior.
What the hell, Malcolm thought, I've already got plenty of the damn snacks.
He threw two pretzels down on top of those Hoshi had bet, and quickly turned over his next card.
He almost cursed.
It was a two.
Trip and Hoshi laughed again.
"Too bad, Malcolm." Trip seemed to be enjoying the expert player's losing streak, as he watched Hoshi scoop up her winnings.
"She's just getting lucky," Malcolm insisted, momentarily loathing Trip for his smug attitude.
But it was just who Trip was.
Hoshi sorted her winnings, and looked over at Trip, raising an eyebrow slightly, a gesture Malcolm almost missed.
He didn't comment, just kept an eye on the Commander.
Trip leaned over to Travis, and, in a sly voice, said, "I bet ya' Malcolm loses this one too."
Travis seemed intrigued by this proposal, and inclined his head, narrowing his eyes in consideration of the bet. He looked to Trip, and nodded. "You're on."
If Trip wins another bet… I quit, Malcolm thought with a smile inside.
Trip and Travis shook hands on it, and Trip gave Travis' pretzels a look.
Hoshi exhaled rapidly. "Okay… I'm sorted. Ready to try that again, Malcolm?"
Malcolm gave a brisk nod, and prayed that the cards were on his side. Please let her lay down a number, he begged in his head, to no one in particular.
Hoshi placed four pretzels on the tabletop.
"Ooh, risky," Trip commented, dodging a pretzel that was launched in his direction. He laughed.
Hoshi peeled the card off the top of her pile, and slammed it down on the surface of the table.
Malcolm let himself breathe easier. He was out of danger… mostly. At least it wasn't another Jack.
It was an Ace.
"Looks like you might owe me salty snacks some time soon," Travis taunted Trip, taking pleasure in doing so, whilst Trip help back a comment, and simply watched the turn with interest.
Malcolm blew out a breath, and lay down his bet… four pretzels.
He took hold of the first card. A nine.
Three more, he thought confidently. He wouldn't have bet so many pretzels if he weren't confident.
Next card… a ten.
Close, his mind chattered, seemingly taunting him.
Penultimate card… a five.
He could have sworn everyone else was holding their breath, as he reached for the final card.
It was a seven.
"Dammit!" he and Travis exclaimed at the same moment, and Malcolm let his head drop onto the table's surface.
Trip cheered, and high-fived Hoshi over the table. Hoshi laid her hands down on the pretzels and cards, and dragged them over to her.
"Too bad, Malcolm. Your luck changed, I guess." She kept hugging her winnings, as if afraid someone would steal them from her.
Trip was smiling like a child on Christmas, as he accepted all of Travis' pretzels.
Malcolm pulled his head back off the table.
Trip had more betting pretzels than anyone; Hoshi had most of the cards; Travis had no pretzels whatsoever; and Malcolm had been beaten at his own game.
He threw his hands up in defeat.
"Who's for Poker?"