> Emotions are like glasses. If a powerful emotion is warping your view when you look at someone, then you're not seeing their true self.

The tourist stared at Joey with his shaky head as he sneered inside his mind. 'A donk bet?' It was almost a donation. He'd seen this weak play so many times that the meaning was obvious. Of course, he considered other possibilities, but didn't give them any weight.

Although he hadn't seen Joey show many hands, in the tourist's numerous years of playing poker, there were only a few occasions where he'd seen players set up baits with donk bets like this. Those were all high-level pros. Should he be worried about some unknown kid in a 5-10 game being at that level? That's laughable.

Still, despite the donk bet being weak, the tourist didn't have a monster to slowplay himself. Draws worried him. He had aces, powerful cards, but most of the possible turn cards weren't good for him. He didn't know Joey. If a scare card came on the turn and Joey bluffed, it would put him in a very tough spot. So his best play was to win the hand now, or to make Joey pay big if he wanted to see another card with a draw. He wouldn't mind action, but it would be on his terms.

*Hiccup* "Raise." *Hiccup* "500 more," the tourist slurred.

'...He's got a hand,' Joey thought. 'He doesn't know I see through his act. If he was bluffing, he wouldn't put on such a show with hiccups. They're a reminder to me that he's a sloppy drunk. Kings or aces, maybe queens. That means my best play is to reraise now. As for how much…let's go with the previous plan.'

Joey had planned for this situation from his first bet. There were several reasons he donk bet 150 into the 315 pot. First, a weakish half-pot bet was consistent with the signal he wanted to send that he held a marginal donk betting hand. Second, he expected the tourist would raise around 500 on top. He was right.

Now, if Joey called this raise, the pot would become 1615. Then he would only have 1650 remaining, a natural all in with a pot-sized bet. If instead of 150, Joey had bet 300, it may have made the tourist wary. Also, even if he made it 300, when the tourist raised another 500 or more, Joey would've still gone all in. So there would be no difference in the ultimate result, except the smaller 150 bet set up the trap better.

It's small things like that which show the differences between good and great players, just like the other small thing Joey was doing now; He was taking his time, because like the tourist, he was acting. There was a good reason—Joey was telling a story.

In every poker hand, you're writing a story about what your cards are, and each opponent is a reader. Players call this reading hands. As the writer, you need to ensure the story is consistent at every point. That's the only way you can get your reader to feel the things you want them to feel, to become engrossed in the script, to forget it's being written by someone with malicious intent.

Every street, every bet sizing, and every mannerism are parts of your story's plot. They all need to align in a believable narrative.

Stolen novel; please report.

One plot hole is enough for an experienced critic to tear your script to pieces, leading to terrible box office results in the hand, and the possibility of bankrupting your entire studio. At the end of the story, you need the critic to leave with your intended impression. Only then will he do what you want him to, whether that's to award an excellent review or ship you all his money. If he does the opposite—that's the worst-case scenario.

Joey's tale was a simple underdog story.

He held a marginal made hand like tens or a good draw. He wasn't strong but he was willful. So he donk bet. This was Joey's character taking a shot at the big leagues. So far, the tourist was immersed with rapt attention.

Now the tourist raised. It was the underdog's failure. He was rejected, his dreams shattered. What would he do? Would he quit?

Joey knew he would reraise all in, but that would create a disturbance in the reader. Why would a marginal hand make such a forceful move? Joey needed to sell the underdog's motive.

He looked at the drunk tourist as he watched him back. Then Joey became an actor. No...he became an underdog. Even his mind submerged in the role.

His face displayed his thoughts to the drunk in a subtle manner. 'This drunk has been doing nothing but bullying everyone with garbage cards. There are so many draws on this board. He probably has a semi-bluff or even nothing. How can I just give up?!? The pot is so huge! …I have to make a stand!!!'

The underdog's eyes gave off a light gleam, only discernable to a careful observer, not a bumbling drunk. They were the eyes of unwillingness, then stubbornness, then…decisiveness! The underdog was making a stand! He wouldn't give up! "I raise. All in." Joey pushed his 1650 into the center of the table.

The climax arrived.

The drunk tourist stopped wobbling. He almost broke character. While he didn't mind action, it's one thing to say that but another to face the pressure of a massive bet. He narrowed his eyes as he observed Joey. This kid's the only player at the table he hadn't gotten a firm grasp on…

The tourist shook his head. 'He's only a kid. Even if he's good...to donk/3bet me like this? This betting line would be so strange to show a monster here. That would be pushing it. My image is wild. There's no denying that. It should be he doesn't give me much credit, which is what I wanted...'

The tourist did his due diligence. He reviewed Joey's story again: preflop, flop, betting patterns, body language…Each act lined up, reaching the crescendo of a certain finale—'He doesn't believe me and is making a stand with A9, tens, jacks, or a good draw.' The story's mood had captivated the tourist.

He nodded his head. "Call."

[4♦ 8♠ 9♠ 2♦ J♦]

After the dealer ran out the hand, Joey flipped over his 4s, winning the pot.

The underdog achieved his dream!

The tourist leaned forward and his eyes popped out! His jaw dropped! 4s?!? He rubbed his eyes to check he wasn't seeing things! He felt like he was drunk for real!

He didn't expect this twist ending!

Joey scooped the pot as a staff member came over to the tourist. He said something but the tourist didn't hear him, still blinking and contemplating the hand. He was trying to figure out what happened. After a few moments, he regained his composure. "What?" he asked the staff member.

The staff member replied, "A seat's opened in 25-50. Do you want it?"

The tourist turned to Joey, taking a deep glance at him for several seconds. "Lock it up," he said. Then he racked up the remainder of his chips.

He was still up 500, an incredible feat when you consider he just lost 2500. The tourist got up and wobbled to his new table. As he passed Joey, his body stopped swinging for a moment. The tourist turned to him and with a sober voice said, "Nice hand kid. What's your name?"

Joey looked at the tourist, who was as clear-eyed as anyone in the room. "Joey."

The tourist nodded. "I'm Richard. Good luck." Then he went right back to wobbling, heading to the table all the way in the rear of the room. Joey watched him leave as he praised the method actor who never broke character. Even having lost a humongous pot, he wasn't upset at all. That was the hallmark of a true pro.

Even if they don't agree with the ending, a great writer still appreciates a superb story.