The day started well as both Mrs. Snowman and the mother-in-law were at work and the cat was nowhere to be found. I
had the house to myself so was in the unusual position where I could relax for a while without having to worry about personal
injury or mental torture. I even took the precaution of unplugging the telephone. I ran a long hot bath, put a Led Zeppelin
album into the CD player and splashed around in the water for an hour, playing with my plastic submarine and rubber duck.
Having dressed at a leisurely pace I grabbed my cigarettes and wandered from the house with
the intention of doing a few things in the city. I spotted the cat peering at me from underneath a neighbour’s car so
was even happier knowing I wouldn’t find anything disgusting when I returned.
This was as far as my good fortune went.
Obviously, Mrs. Snowman had taken the car so I had to use public transport. For those of you
reading this in countries other than England I should explain how daunting this is. Public transportation in the UK seems
to be designed for the people that work in it rather than those who use it. The buses arrive late, are driven by employees
who seem to have a hatred for the human race, are full of screaming kids and have an odd musty smell like a wet pair of socks.
This is only enhanced by the elderly women who sit at the front and lift their buttocks to fart every half a mile or so. Not
unreasonably, I alighted from the vehicle at the earliest opportunity and dived headlong for the pub.
After a few beers I was sufficiently relaxed to wander around the shops and it wasn’t
long before the appetising effects of the booze took hold. Foolishly, I decided a burger was needed and chose a well-known
fast-food establishment to provide it.
I hungrily scanned the photos above the serving area and decided on a large burger and fries,
the images looked extremely nice. After a couple of attempts, my order was given to an employee who almost spoke English and
I waited with baited breath for my food.
The thing that arrived bore absolutely no resemblance
whatsoever to the picture. Rather than a perfectly formed meal I received a flattened splat with half the meat flopping out
of the bun and shreds of lettuce that were turning brown around the edges.
It looked like someone had taken a shit between two bits of bred and then trained a small pony
to sit on it. What’s more it was only slightly warm. The French fries however were not quite the same temperature. Asbestos
gloves were needed to pick the things up. I tried eating one but it seared the top layer of skin from the roof of my mouth.
My eyes were bulging out of my head like a bullfrog in full croak as I dived for the large Coke only to discover they’d
given me root beer.
I ended up feeding the entire mess to the closest litterbin and went back to the pub for a
liquid lunch.
Several more beers were consumed and I headed for the bus stop to start my return journey.
Unfortunately, a combination of alcohol and an empty stomach meant I got on the wrong bus. I ended up several miles from my
intended destination and had to get a taxi home.
Luckily I arrived before the current Mrs. Snowman and was playing the afternoon freeroll when
she swooped in. Astonishingly, I was chip leader after half an hour with a stack of nearly 30,000 as she impatiently hovered
over me with the news that we had to leave for our weekly live poker game. Of all the times to go!!
I made a mental choice between the Internet and my testicles, clicked the check/fold button
and left the house. Even though I was obviously in with a shot of reaching the final table I nonetheless ended up in 61st
place and $1.50 was added to my bankroll.
The wife also featured in the live games and astonishingly made the cash in all of them. The
final one was the most disconcerting as I found myself with a huge chip lead and heads-up against her. After a couple of hands
I obtained an Ace high flush on the flop and went all in. She immediately called with 7-2 off suit and hit a full house on
the river. Two hands later she rivered me again and won the whole fucking thing.
I drowned my sorrow with more beer and congratulated her on her aggressive and winning style
of play. If you’re reading this…well done darling, I’m so happy for you, I’m delighted you won.
Witch.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $2.67
