Three things

There was a home game last night. Same host for the past three years or so, Mike, so we figured. Ever since Randy gave up that favor to the group.

Long time readers may recall my concern the handwriting was on the wall when Randy's girlfriend moved in with him. yet, when she began to join us at the table and appeared interested in learning the game, those worries were eased. And in fact it was Randy, not her that ended it with his habit of retiring to the bedroom after getting felted. One buy-in and off to pout, leaving her to hang with his pals.

Pals. Randy comes to the new game on a regular basis. He walked in last night and I said "Hello." He looked at me but did not return the greeting. Something was different about him, but it wasn't necessarily his demeanor.

And, as is usual for randy, he had his phone out to play Solitaire during the game. After about a half hour of play, someone asked Randy about his work. That was when he informed the group he had been in bed with bronchitis for six weeks. No one had been aware of that fact.

His girlfriend is really a lovely, friendly person.

The game is usually held the second Friday of the month, but since this month that day was Valentine's Day, Mike had scheduled the game for the 7th. Except we had sixteen inches of snow on the ground, so he cancelled it. He called this Wednesday to recruit me for last night.

Mike was already drinking when the crew showed up. Something in a tall glass. About two hours into the game and another drink, I look up to see a .45 revolver holstered in front of him. And, oh yeah, I am sitting directly across from him.

Me: Hey, Mike, wanna put away the gun?

Mike: Make ya nervous?

Me: Yeah, it does. I have an uncle who was shot at a poker game.

Phil: He don't have on his glasses so you don't have to worry.

Steve (to my right): It comes out of the holster, I'm ducking under the table.

At this point the crew erupts in its go-to latent homosexual joking: Oh, going under the table? Look out Spot!

Me: If I thought I was gonna die, I think I might let him.

I doubled up.