Zero and the Neighbours Part 1 - Demo version 0.1 (2/4) By Joe Hakim

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4).

Munching on a tuna and lettuce sandwich, Frank would toss his cards in, saying some shit like, 'Did you see Sam on Late Night Poker the other night? Fuckin' little prick. Won on Jack Ten unsuited against a pair of Kings by sheer fluke. All in, he was, with just a pair of Jacks on the flop, and then they deal the river and he hits trip Jacks...can you fuckin' believe that? I knew that fucker back when he was fencing jewellery on Bransholme estate,' he says, and the rest of the players sigh and carry on, Frank's voice just another familiar distraction like the commentary of the roulette dealers in the pit - Place yer bets, please! Cash plays the layout, Final bets, please!

Frank had become part of the furniture, and he spouted that same old 'I could have been a contender,' shtick that alcoholics shouted in bars up and down Spring Bank every Tuesday lunchtime - y'know the sort: I could've played for City or FC or wher ever me, maaaate... He was bitter that poker had never made him the fortune that he dreamt of - even though he had devoted nearly his entire life to playing it.

Frank would go home and watch poker tournaments on the satellite TV after the casino shut. He'd even shelled out for a computer so he could play online. Frank represented a real conclusion to a life of gambling and playing cards; an old man, slowly frittering away the last of his pension and meagre savings - betting pennies and still chasing that dream of the big win, that moment when he could turn around to whoever happened to be stood there and say: 'This is what it was all for - this is my validation, my redemption.' Well, he wouldn't say that or anything like it, it would be more something like: 'Shove that up yer arse,' or something along those lines.

All the other players, they could see that Frank's fate would more than likely be their own. It was a prospect that terrified them; anyone with half a brain could see that. So...

It was around Christmas, my first one working in the casino. As part of the various celebrations and promotions, a Texas hold 'em tournament was organised involving all the branches of Cassidy's Casinos in Yorkshire. Each one would host its own set of heats, and a final would be held in Sheffield. It was a bit lame - a half-arsed attempt to cash in on the sudden surge in the popularity of poker, but it generated a buzz amongst the players, especially the older ones. There was a series of four tournaments. Getting through to the last table in one of those meant instant qualification into the semi-final, and getting through to the last table in that meant that you would automatically go through to the final in Sheffield.

It was quite amusing for the dealers, watching these old fuckers suddenly start playing with a renewed seriousness, like this was their shot at the big time. Jake, a retired dentist, started wearing shades; George, a semi-senile teacher, brought a small plastic frog to rest on his chips. It was like a cheesy copy of a Vegas tournament held right here in Hull.

Continued...Next Page (3/4)

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