“I swear, I’ve been drunker than this and shot my guns.”
Ah, that’s comforting. That just makes everything ok. The time to get the hell out of here has come and yet still I sit here with a pair of aces in my hand, and a joker standing on the other side of the room with a loaded pistol.
It was supposed to be a typical poker night. Go out, loose my money to my friends, and come home.
The night starts off with me meeting my friends at a guy’s house that I had only met once before at a previous poker game. He wants to host that night’s game at his place, and my friends and I agree to head over.
He begins the night by shooting a 22 rifle and a BB gun in his backyard. Oookkkk. Not the way I typically start of my evenings, but I can deal. The 22 isn’t loud, and he insists that his neighbors think that he is shooting off firecrackers.
Poker commences. The conversation becomes somewhat vulgar, as is expected when people are freed from the uptight weekday grind and their tongues are loosened with alcohol. The conversation goes further than expected when he begins discussing the various ways he has pleased Asian hookers over the past few years. We all nod our heads and laugh uncomfortably. He briefly apologizes, and blames it on the large quantity of strong German beer that’s he’s had. He weakly stands up, steadies himself using my chair, and then walks into a far corner of the house.
He comes back with a pistol. Some other time I will have to fill you in on how I used to hunt and shoot guns as a kid with my dad and tell you all about my 2nd amendment beliefs. I don’t remember them mentioning it in the gun safety course, but I’m pretty sure there’s a rule about not handling guns while you’re stupid. There’s probably a rule about not handling them while you’re drunk too.
The gun is waived about, all the while he ensures us that it is not loaded. He hands the pistol to me with the barrel facing my chest. I inspect the gun and see that there’s no clip in the gun and no bullet in the chamber. I hand the gun back to him expecting him to put it away. That was a mistake. Instead he goes outside to shoot it. One of my friend’s follows.
Thankfully at this point, I am not the only one in the room with alarm bells going off in my head. He fires the gun once before we can act. It is much louder than a firecracker. One of the other people in the room rushes outside, pulls my friend inside, and convinces the drunk to stop firing and put away the pistol.
He does so. Shortly after that he gets up again to try to find a video that he had shot (no pun intended) of him doing the nasty with the Asian hookers. Thankfully, he does not find the video.
We soon finish up our game. I leave five dollars richer, an atypical night for me. I do wish that somebody had told me that the joker was wild…and drunk, on this particular Saturday night.