POKER PREP
by
Owlcroft
McCormick looked around the gatehouse. Corn chips and dip on the coffee table, borrowed crockpot with hot chili on the sideboard, sandwiches on the end table, beer in the fridge, glasses on the counter. Ashtray for Charlie's cigar on the hearth, ditto matches, and plenty of napkins nearby.
A perfunctory knock at the door and in came the judge. "So," Hardcastle said jovially, "you ready to host your first poker game with the legal beagles?"
Mark frowned, worried. "I think so. I think I got everything."
The judge grinned at him, slyly. "How 'bout a deck or two of cards?"
finis
