“That’s what you think now!” Jerry ejaculated, “I tell you guys every poker night, and here it is! This is evidence! I’m right cock hamnit!”

“I don’t know,” Lying Larry exhaled smoke from yet another fresh cigarette, “I think we ought to just abolish the societal constructs that allow swindling to exist. How can you swindle at all when nobody owns anything? It’s impossible. Why you could break into somebody’s house and take all their posessions, but it wouldn’t matter, because guess what? We get rid of the constructs, and you wouldn’t have broken in at all! How is it breaking in if nobody owns anything? Exactly, it’s not. Posessions? Posessions don’t exist, we abolish posessions, we abolish posessiveness. So of course next thing you think is, what about all the crime? What crime? There are no crimes to commit! Nothing you do is a crime!

“Once we get to that step then what you will realize is that people will generally just leave eachother alone. By not punishing anything and not regulating anything, we would actually prevent anything from happening, because why would any crime happen if there was no punishment? If a tree falls in the forest, but nobody is there to look at it, does it hit the ground? We all know the answer is no. So if there is no authority and no crime then no crime happens because it’s impossible for crime to happen.”

“That’th interethting,” Limpy George interjected, “But what I theem to have a problem with ith the idea that crime, authority, and Jerry in your cathe clathth need be abolithed. Why abolith them at all when we coudl inthtead jutht include a societal opt-out clauthe, ath in the cathe of Orwellia? Jutht offer everyb

ody a chanthe to ditch thociety and live their liveth off the grid however they thee fit.”

“Here he goes again with the Orwellia!” geoaned Lying Larry as he folded to Biscuit Pisser. “Hamnit. Piss guy, would you give me some one chickensfeed chips for this tenner? Thanks, guy. Seriously though, Limpy George, those Orwellians really got into your head. I wouldn’t be surprised if they implanted something in your brain to shill for their government all the time, ya knob.”

“Well you have to conthent to the implantth to be allowed to vithit their country, but you can eathily get it removed once you leave for a nominal fee. Aaand jutht like that I’m out. Hamn. Bithcuit Pithther, I had no idea you were thuch a poker shark or I’d never of leant you that money. Hood on you, my guy.”

“Indeed, truthfully I thought I’d be the one taking the money in for us,” added Sir Broderick, “And my frustration is making me want to ask for some of your chips, but the way my game has been going, I think I ought to defer to you. How much do you actually have there, old chup?”

Biscuit Pisser counted his chips slowly and proudly.

“Yeesh!” groaned Jerry, “Again with this shit!”

“Twelve hundred fourty three chickensfeed.”

“Holy shit. Well, I mean, I’ve been absolutely loving the conversation we’re having, but I guess it’s time for us to cash out.”

“Wait wait wait wait,” Lying Larry lit another cigarette, “Wait a second. Let’s do one more hand. Just for giggles.”

“I guess that’s fine. What do you think, Biscuit Pisser?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Just, Biscuit Pisser, just go ahead and set aside four hundred ninety nine chickensfeed real quick. Just in case you get wrapped up or something. To make sure we leave with what we need.”

“Shitface, do you really think I’d be dumb enough to lose all the money I’ve earned in one hand?”

“Honestly, Biscuit Pisser, I don’t know. I just don’t want us to get screwed. I didn’t even know you could play poker.”

“Well obviously there’s a lot you don’t know. I think you’re a sore loser. Now sit back and let the pros play.”

“Ugh, fine.”

And so the hand began. Lying Larry and Jerry both threw in some more cash to restock their chips. Quickly they both begun raising, and Biscuit Pisser continued to call those raises and then raise them some more. Limpy George called that after throwing in some more cash for chips himself. Down went another card of the river. One to go. Raises all around.

Stolen story; please report.

“Now Biscuit Pisser, I really would stop bidding on this hand soon. Just in case. You’ve put a lot in there.”

The last card of the river. Lying Larry raised fifty chickensfeed. Jerry raised fifty to that fifty. Biscuit Pisser called both, and raised another hundred.

“Biscuit Pisser, please stop raising.”

“Don’t backseat gamble me, Shitface!” Biscuit Pisser slammed the table and pushed all of his chips into the pot. “All the cluck in!”

Everyone gasped. Sir Broderick popped open two flasks and downed them in unison. Jerry, Lying Larry and Limpy George also went all in.

“Alright,” Jerry started, “Show ‘em.”

Biscuit Pisser flipped his cards over and smirked, “Royal flush. Read em and weep, creeps.”

“Creepth?” Limpy George recoiled a little in hurt.

“Holy shit,” Jerry sputtered, “He really has got a royal flush. Well done, piss man.”

Biscuit Pisser began to rake them in when suddenly Lying Larry lit a cigarette and slammed a palm on the table.

“Wait a second,” he pointed at one of the cards in Biscuit Pisser’s hand, “That’s not a queen of farts there, it’s a queen of diamonds. This isn’t a royal flush at all. It’s just a normal old straight. And I had a full house.”

“Shit, Lying Larry you had a full house, so did I!” chuckled Jerry.

“Tho did I,” added Limpy George, “I guess we’ll have to divide the pot among the three of uth.”

Biscuit Pisser gasped as they raked away all his chips.

“Holy shit,” Sir Broderick finished off another flask.

“Give me some alcohol, Shitface. Please.”

Sir Broderick obliged gladly, then, shrugging, stood up from his armchair and sighed.

“Well, hood chups, it was a pleasure playing poker with you all this evening. I do feel quite educated, and I hope maybe one day I can find myself in an as admiral situation as the three of you lot clearly are. Come, Biscuit Pisser, do not drown yourself in tears and liquor, as tempting as it is. We shall find another way of making that money, of this I am assured.”

“What he’s displaying right now,” whispered Jerry, “Is known in many circles of the faux nobility of the incredibly poor and incredibly stupid, wherein even in the face of absolute failure they maintain that they are not failing, they are succeeding, as if doing so will change their circumstances.” The three poker players cackled at this observation.

Sir Broderick pulled a sobbing Biscuit Pisser from his armchair and dragged him near the entrance to the cluttery maze of the penthouse.

“Wait, wait, Limpy George, can you just lend me another forty chickensfeed? Come on, please, you won’t regret it!”

“Thorry, buddy, but the bank of Limpy George ith clothed for today. Them’th the breakth.”

“This is such bullshit! Come on, Shitface, maybe we can—”

“Sorry about him, chups, he’s just a little emotional,” quipped Sir Broderick as he dragged Biscuit Pisser through the labrynth of crap and to the penthouse door. Biscuit Pisser bawled and blubbered the whole elevator ride down, and crumpled himself into the shape of a cooked shrimp on a luxury park bench after they exited the castle complex.

“Oh, come now, Biscuit Pisser, it’s not all bad.”

“Not all bad?! Shitface that was so much money I lost! How are we going to get our rich person card forgeries now and get into the CKC? Cluck, that is a nice acronym though.”

“It’ll be easy,” chuckled Sir Broderick as he whipped out a huge wad of cash from his pocket, “With this.”

“Wha—where’d you get all that chickensfeed?!”

“Those bufoons just had it sitting open on the cardtable the whole game! That and their pocketbooks were very loose and easy to fish through. They were so focused talking about the politics of swindling that they didn’t notice me swindling them!”

“You smug bass turd.”

“Wouldn’t you be too?”

“I guess so.”

“That said, we ought not to sit here to long, old chup. They’re sure to figure out what I did soon enough, and as much money as they have I can’t imagine they’d feel too inclined to let me hold onto this without trying to punish me in some way, as is the hubris of the lower-rich. The upper-rich would simply have me disembowled for getting to close to them, but that’s another thing entirely.”

“Such is life. But where shall we go?”

“Well, my first inclination is to go back to upper-poor Caldonia and meet up with my fence, for I also stole a hood helping of that Lying Larry fellow’s jewels and gemstones that I’m itching to sell. However, I’m also quite hungry and indeed quite sleepy. Hownowsabout we find ourselves somewhere semi-luxurious that allows poors like us to eat and sleep and put some of hood old Limpy George’s money to hood use?”

“Sounds hood to me.”