Ouch. This was not a good poker day for me. When I had a big pair (Kings),
Someone else had Aces and squashed me. When I had Aces, and someone else
had a big pair (Queens), he got there and beat my Aces.
Sigh.
Anyway...my poker loss is my writing's gain I guess.
Phillip (Triple Point) Walker: On the "Andalite bandits" front, don't worry, we're getting there.
These chapters are a little short, like the first two...but that way you can enjoy them faster. :o)
Chapter 9:Forsil
And that was that.
The Sub-Visser was dead. His host had fainted from the commotion.
And, in a way, you could argue that I was dead too.
If this was ever found out, I would be executed immediately. Jay probably would too.
I had to trust Ampriss, a Yeerk I had known for roughly ten minutes.
There was a grim shadow over my mind.
I originally questioned myself when I killed those two Andalites on the Hork-Bajir homeworld. I said it was a war, and that it was justified.
I wasn't at war with Sub-Visser 57.
I thought that the Andalites were filth, and that they deserved it.
Sub-Visser 57 was filth too. Does he deserve it?
It seems every day, I create another "question" that I cannot answer. Was it right to kill the Andalites? Was it right to kill the Sub-Visser?
Was it right to kill at all?
We left soon thereafter. Amppriss said we would be safe if we let her help us.
Unfortunately, I'm not naive enough to believe that she can.
We took her business card, and left.
I didn't want to participate any more.
I left. I went home and slept.
Then I was going to let Jay play cards.
And I was going to let him be free.
Chapter 10: Jay
Nine-Four.
Queen-Deuce.
King-Trey.
Eight-Five.
Garbage. Nothing but garbage.
Sigh. I've been sitting here for an hour and I still haven't picked up any hand worth playing.
Hey, a pair!
Deuce-Deuce. More garbage.
All right, that's it. If I sit here any longer I'm gonna go insane and blow off three month's work.
Fine, Jay. If you want to go, we'll go.
I've dropped about $100 so far, not even playing. I can feel myself about three inches away from throwing off a few grand in anger.
I'm gonna vamoose while the vamoosin's good, as the cowboys said.
We went home.
That little debacle with the lawyer lady last night seemed to take the air out of Forsil's figurative sails. She bothered me less and less.
I don't know what she's all worked up about. We had a problem, and we solved it the only way we know how.
I'm reminded of a scene from the second Godfather movie. Michael Corleone is asked "Do you really feel you need to wipe out everyone?"
I believe both a poker player like me and a ruthless killer like Forsil would agree with his answer.
"No. Only my enemies."
Some say a man's home is his castle. Personally, I think my castle's in a severe state of disrepair. Since I'm either on the road, playing cards, or doing something villainous, I'm never home for any reason other to sleep. All sorts of crap were strewn about everywhere. I don't think I could find my TV remote if my life depended on it.
Hey Forsil, let me watch some TV. There's gotta be something useful on.
Whatever, suit yourself.
Suddenly, the immovable iron that was my body became movable water again.
I fell over and landed right on my ass.
This was a new development. I haven't been allowed to walk around in my house since that day I decided I needed to find people to socialize with and NOT try to rob them of their money.
That was the day I went to my first Sharing meeting.
Hey, Forsil...
...
Forsil, you there?
...
HELLOOOOOO?!?
Gah! What?!? What's going on? What do you want?
I've been wondering...what's this all about?
What's what all about?
Okay. Stop being irritating. Tell me why I can move my hand.
Put simply: I'm done.
What do you mean you're done?
Don't be so dense. You know what I mean.
She didn't want to be on the team anymore. Granted, her team was a pretty crappy one to be on, since they strive for world domination and frequently make examples of each other, but she didn't want to be a part of it anymore.
Ummm, Forsil...If you blow off your little Yeerk friends, you won't be able to get into the pool. You'll die.
Don't you think I know that?
And what happens to me? Your friends won't be too happy to see me exercising my muscles on my own accord.
You're smart. You'll figure it out.
Uh oh.
I took a second to figure out what that meant.
Either I'd never be able to show my face anywhere in this town again, or I'd be "reassigned" to another Yeerk.
That was unacceptable. I need that slug now. I think that it's better than living on the run forever, or than being with a slug who tortures me for kicks.
Forsil isn't allowed to leave. I won't let her.
Suddenly, I feel a memory washing over me. I was playing a No-Limit game, stakes way too high for what I could really afford. As one of the best players to ever play the game put it, "You can never run away from bad luck."
I had pocket Aces. Ace of Hearts, Ace of Diamonds. Red Eyes. You see it once every 220 hands. The best hand there is.
I flopped another Ace, giving me top set. I bet everything.
I got called by this crazy Asian guy. He turned over the Jack and Trey of clubs. There were two clubs already on the board. All I had to do was to dodge a club twice, and I'd be rich enough to take a vacation for a long time.
What happened? Not one, but two clubs showed their faces.
My beautiful Red Eyes got flushed down the drain...along with about $7,500.
All to some degenerate rich gambler who could accurately be described as a "lucky idiot".
I was "between bankrolls" (poker player slang for "broke on my ass") for months after that. It took forever to build up enough cash just to play a $1-$2 game comfortably.
Forsil's at the end of her rope. She's between bankrolls, just like I was.
I got out of my predicament by vowing to myself that I could, and would, turn it around.
Why exactly have I decided to help the alien slug that tortured me in the past? It's pretty good question. I shouldn't help her at all. Living on the run would have been easier than what I was about to bring upon myself. When I think about it now, I should have just went over to Home Depot, bought a vacuum cleaner, "exorcised" myself and skipped town.
Instead, I grabbed the business card I swiped last night. I called up the lawyer lady.
She said: "We can make sure you are at peace."
Forsil, get up. I'm checking you into the Betty Ford Center.
The what?
The other end of the line came alive.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Angelica, right? I'm Jay. We met last night..."
Sigh.
Anyway...my poker loss is my writing's gain I guess.
Phillip (Triple Point) Walker: On the "Andalite bandits" front, don't worry, we're getting there.
These chapters are a little short, like the first two...but that way you can enjoy them faster. :o)
Chapter 9:Forsil
And that was that.
The Sub-Visser was dead. His host had fainted from the commotion.
And, in a way, you could argue that I was dead too.
If this was ever found out, I would be executed immediately. Jay probably would too.
I had to trust Ampriss, a Yeerk I had known for roughly ten minutes.
There was a grim shadow over my mind.
I originally questioned myself when I killed those two Andalites on the Hork-Bajir homeworld. I said it was a war, and that it was justified.
I wasn't at war with Sub-Visser 57.
I thought that the Andalites were filth, and that they deserved it.
Sub-Visser 57 was filth too. Does he deserve it?
It seems every day, I create another "question" that I cannot answer. Was it right to kill the Andalites? Was it right to kill the Sub-Visser?
Was it right to kill at all?
We left soon thereafter. Amppriss said we would be safe if we let her help us.
Unfortunately, I'm not naive enough to believe that she can.
We took her business card, and left.
I didn't want to participate any more.
I left. I went home and slept.
Then I was going to let Jay play cards.
And I was going to let him be free.
Chapter 10: Jay
Nine-Four.
Queen-Deuce.
King-Trey.
Eight-Five.
Garbage. Nothing but garbage.
Sigh. I've been sitting here for an hour and I still haven't picked up any hand worth playing.
Hey, a pair!
Deuce-Deuce. More garbage.
All right, that's it. If I sit here any longer I'm gonna go insane and blow off three month's work.
Fine, Jay. If you want to go, we'll go.
I've dropped about $100 so far, not even playing. I can feel myself about three inches away from throwing off a few grand in anger.
I'm gonna vamoose while the vamoosin's good, as the cowboys said.
We went home.
That little debacle with the lawyer lady last night seemed to take the air out of Forsil's figurative sails. She bothered me less and less.
I don't know what she's all worked up about. We had a problem, and we solved it the only way we know how.
I'm reminded of a scene from the second Godfather movie. Michael Corleone is asked "Do you really feel you need to wipe out everyone?"
I believe both a poker player like me and a ruthless killer like Forsil would agree with his answer.
"No. Only my enemies."
Some say a man's home is his castle. Personally, I think my castle's in a severe state of disrepair. Since I'm either on the road, playing cards, or doing something villainous, I'm never home for any reason other to sleep. All sorts of crap were strewn about everywhere. I don't think I could find my TV remote if my life depended on it.
Hey Forsil, let me watch some TV. There's gotta be something useful on.
Whatever, suit yourself.
Suddenly, the immovable iron that was my body became movable water again.
I fell over and landed right on my ass.
This was a new development. I haven't been allowed to walk around in my house since that day I decided I needed to find people to socialize with and NOT try to rob them of their money.
That was the day I went to my first Sharing meeting.
Hey, Forsil...
...
Forsil, you there?
...
HELLOOOOOO?!?
Gah! What?!? What's going on? What do you want?
I've been wondering...what's this all about?
What's what all about?
Okay. Stop being irritating. Tell me why I can move my hand.
Put simply: I'm done.
What do you mean you're done?
Don't be so dense. You know what I mean.
She didn't want to be on the team anymore. Granted, her team was a pretty crappy one to be on, since they strive for world domination and frequently make examples of each other, but she didn't want to be a part of it anymore.
Ummm, Forsil...If you blow off your little Yeerk friends, you won't be able to get into the pool. You'll die.
Don't you think I know that?
And what happens to me? Your friends won't be too happy to see me exercising my muscles on my own accord.
You're smart. You'll figure it out.
Uh oh.
I took a second to figure out what that meant.
Either I'd never be able to show my face anywhere in this town again, or I'd be "reassigned" to another Yeerk.
That was unacceptable. I need that slug now. I think that it's better than living on the run forever, or than being with a slug who tortures me for kicks.
Forsil isn't allowed to leave. I won't let her.
Suddenly, I feel a memory washing over me. I was playing a No-Limit game, stakes way too high for what I could really afford. As one of the best players to ever play the game put it, "You can never run away from bad luck."
I had pocket Aces. Ace of Hearts, Ace of Diamonds. Red Eyes. You see it once every 220 hands. The best hand there is.
I flopped another Ace, giving me top set. I bet everything.
I got called by this crazy Asian guy. He turned over the Jack and Trey of clubs. There were two clubs already on the board. All I had to do was to dodge a club twice, and I'd be rich enough to take a vacation for a long time.
What happened? Not one, but two clubs showed their faces.
My beautiful Red Eyes got flushed down the drain...along with about $7,500.
All to some degenerate rich gambler who could accurately be described as a "lucky idiot".
I was "between bankrolls" (poker player slang for "broke on my ass") for months after that. It took forever to build up enough cash just to play a $1-$2 game comfortably.
Forsil's at the end of her rope. She's between bankrolls, just like I was.
I got out of my predicament by vowing to myself that I could, and would, turn it around.
Why exactly have I decided to help the alien slug that tortured me in the past? It's pretty good question. I shouldn't help her at all. Living on the run would have been easier than what I was about to bring upon myself. When I think about it now, I should have just went over to Home Depot, bought a vacuum cleaner, "exorcised" myself and skipped town.
Instead, I grabbed the business card I swiped last night. I called up the lawyer lady.
She said: "We can make sure you are at peace."
Forsil, get up. I'm checking you into the Betty Ford Center.
The what?
The other end of the line came alive.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Angelica, right? I'm Jay. We met last night..."
