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I was playing green cards with Potato Nose Grogan, when he came up with a straight flush. Beating my pair of five irons. But I wasn't about to take this lying down -- he must have had a trick up his sleeve to get that hand. So I called him out and we went down the stairs to the alley to duke it out.
He threw the first punch while my back was turned, but I recovered quickly enough to hit him over the head with a bag of nickels. He went down for the count. I emptied the bag of nickels over him and walked away -- hoping to find a bag of dimes somewhere for my next game of green cards.
My dad taught me how to play green cards. "Son" he told me, "never go into the game with less than a hundred dollars. Make sure you sit away from the windows. And never let the dealer know you brought along a bag of nickels." That's been good advice over the years. I've won most of the games I played, and shared the pot with Republicans and Democrats alike; and when I've lost I've tried to be a good sport and only tore up throw rugs and calendars.
When Potato Nose Grogan wanted a rematch, with no hard feelings, I went along with the gag. But I brought along two bags of nickels. This time I beat him with an Uno card. He didn't see that coming. When he tried to throw me across the border I gave it to him with both bags of nickels. Now he's playing green cards with the angels . . .
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