If you take playing cards seriously, even if no money is involved, egos can be at stake. The situation can be further complicated, if husbands are paired together against their wives.
Sometimes more time is spent engaged in a war of words, than playing the game. However, when all is said and done, . . .
It’s All In The Cards
God! I’m going to be late. Molly’s going to kill me, I thought, as I turned the corner onto our block. I pulled the car into the garage and rushed into the house. As I entered through the door to the kitchen, Josie, our black cocker, greeted me with a yelp and then began licking my shorts covered legs.
Pulling my handkerchief from my pocket, I attempted to dry them as best I could. I looked up and saw Molly sitting at the kitchen table glaring at me.
“You do know we’re playing cards at 5:30? And we have to eat dinner before Sherry and Dave get here.”
“Right, right. But it’s only 4:30. We’ll get it all done. I’m just going to wash up. My legs are all sticky from the kid’s slobber. Then I’ll join you for dinner. By the way what are we having?”
“I hope you’re joking. I asked you what you wanted this morning and you didn’t give me an answer. So I’m having a bowl of soup. You’re on your own.”
“No problem. I have a couple of TV dinners in the fridge to choose from.”
We each prepared our own gourmet delight and chowed down, with little conversation. Molly finished first, stood up, and rattled off a list of chores I needed to complete in the next fifteen minutes before our guests arrived.
“Wipe off the table, get out the pinochle cards and the cube (that shows the suit we bid in), and find a decent score pad. The one we used on Saturday was too small. Then turn on the music. You forgot to do that Saturday, and the quiet drove me crazy. I’m going to clean myself up. Then I’ll put out the snacks.”
“Yes, dear,” I replied, in a somewhat snide manner.
With everything ready, I paced back and forth in our entry hall waiting for Sherry and Dave to arrive. Hearing a car, I peered through the dining room window. The car came to abrupt halt. Dave rolled out of the driver’s side and shuffled around to the passenger side to open the door to let Sherry out. They then came up the path to our front door, arm in arm, as any “young couple” in love would do. Now, both being 79 years old, maybe they were just holding each other up.
As they approached, I opened the door, bowed down before them, and swung my arm out in a grand gesture encouraging them to come in. At that moment Josie, all twenty pounds of her, came charging out of the kitchen and headed straight for Sherry, who wasn’t aware of the impending danger. I screamed, “Josie, stop girl.” To my amazement, she did.
Sherry looked at me and grinned. “Thank you for saving my life. I owe you, but not at cards. I came to win.”
Since we play guys against gals, I looked at Dave and asked, “You ready to win big tonight?”
“Sure. Been practicing all afternoon. We’ll start slow and let them think they have a chance. Then will just trample them. Remember, you’re the scorekeeper. So you have the power of the pen.”
I ushered our guests into the kitchen and they took their customary seats at the table. Molly had the margaritas already prepared and placed on coasters next to where she and Sherry would be sitting. Since Dave and I knew we would win if we kept our wits about us, only glasses of ice water graced our places at the table. And Josie cuddled up in her doggie bed in the corner of the room. We were ready to rumble.
Molly shuffled the cards and slid them toward me to cut. I stared at them without doing anything. “Jim, aren’t you going to cut the cards? Hello, Jim.”
“Hey, my mind wandered. Okay, they’re cut. Thin to win.”
“That’s what you think, but you haven’t got a prayer,” Sherry chortled.
“Don’t make this a religious thing”, Dave bellowed. “You got our signals we worked out on the phone this morning, Jim?”
“Huh, what signals?”
Dave looked at me as if I’d lost it. “You’re younger than I am, man. Concentrate. It’ll come to you.”
“Oh, those signals—place my hand on my heart, if I want you to call hearts as trump. Parade my ring finger in front of you for diamonds, make believe I’m swinging a baseball bat for clubs, and make a digging motion with my hand for spades. I got it.”
“Yeah, you certainly do. I’m just not sure what it is,” Molly grimaced, shaking her head.
“Let’s play already. “You going to make an opening bid or pass, Dave?” I queried.
“Huh, I thought I dealt.”
“No, I did.” Sherry stated. “So you start.”
“Okay. I pass,” Dave said.
“I’ll pass and help my partner,” Sherry chanted.
I stared at my cards and said, “I’ll open, twenty-five.”
Molly looked at her cards, then at me, and sputtered, “Twenty-six.”
I went to twenty-seven and she followed with a bid of twenty-eight. This went on until I let her have the bid for thirty-four. “So, what suit are you calling?” I asked.
She smiled and said, “Hearts.”
Sherry had a glum look on her face as she passed her four cards. “You’re not going to be very happy,” she moaned.
Molly picked up the top card and yelled, “That’s the one.” Grinning at Dave and me, she laid down her run—fifteen points.
I looked at Dave and shook my head. “We’re never that lucky, are we?” I grumbled. “Can you say that’s the one?”
“How can I? You never pass me the right cards,” he replied.
Molly shouted, “We’re so good. Just so talented.”
“Aw, come on. It’s all in the cards. If you don’t have them, you can’t pass them. You girls are just luckier than we are—not better,” Dave groaned. “So you can stop gloating.”
“And you guys don’t gloat when you make a hand?” Molly stated.
“No, we’re gentlemen. We never rub it in,” I replied.
“Oh, you’re so full of it,” Molly yelled.
“Is this the way the whole evening is going to go?” I asked.
“It all depends,” Sherry said.
“Depends on what?” Dave queried.
“How nice you are to us.” Sherry replied in very snooty manner.
“Let’s stop this discussion and play the game,” I said, a bit annoyed. “The evening has just begun and we’ve spent more time talking about nothing than playing.”
“Yeah, and all the hot air is coming from your direction,” Molly quipped.
“Cut that out. Let’s play. What suit was called?” I asked.
“Just look at the cube, Sherry blurted.”
“How can I? Nobody turned it to the suit called,” I responded.
“And you can’t do it? You have hands, don’t you?” Molly asked in a very sarcastic manner.
“Well I could, and I would, if I remembered what the suit was in the first place.”
The cube sat on the table between Sherry and me. She sat there staring at it. Then she said, “I’ll turn the cube.” But she did nothing.
“Well what are you waiting for?” Dave inquired. “You said you’d turn the cube, so do it. Or can’t you remember the suit?”
“Don’t be funny, mister, or you’re going to be sleeping on the hammock in the backyard tonight,” Sherry snapped.
“So? We’re waiting, “Dave insisted.
Sherry looked embarrassed. “Well, no, I don’t remember what the suit was, or I would,” she uttered.
The rest of the evening didn’t get any better. If we didn’t forget the suit chosen or who dealt the cards, the girls would make fun of the guys. And the guys, being perfect gentleman, would accept these jabs without comment. We had to. We needed a decent place to sleep tonight and someone to make breakfast for us in the morning.
In spite of the friendly bickering, we had a great evening. At least the girls did. They won four games to our two.
As we walked Sherry and Dave to the door, Dave turned toward me and spouted, “We had quite an evening—won all the games.”
With her eyes, Sherry shot daggers at Dave’s heart. “You what?” she screamed.
“Sure was a good evening, maybe next time the cards will favor you girls. However, I guess we’re just too good,” I proclaimed.
“Molly glared at me and declared, “In your dreams.”
As Sherry ushered Dave out the door, she turned toward me with a glint in her eye and teased, “If there is a next time.”
Copyright © 2015 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
