Stretch: The Bet
August, the month of the Blackpage is over. But don’t worry—there’s a story brewing in that world and I accomplished what I hoped to accomplish by doing some writing sketches in that world. If you would like to revisit the world of the Blackpage, check out previous entries in this universe here.
For now, back to our regular exercises until I think of a new theme!
This exercise was inspired by comments about Weird West Wednesday made on notes by
and :Then to confirm my intuitions, I posted an informal poll which most respondents said they wanted to see a poker game. So here we are!
If you have ideas for Prompts, Crunches, Sprints, Relays, Stretches, or other writing exercises in the future, please leave them in the comments! If you would like to write your own take for this exercise, please comment with a link so that I can see what you wrote and support your work, maybe even share your version with my subscribers. Please let me know if you have any thoughts, comments, or constructive criticisms as well!
Enjoy!
Stretch: Write about a high-stakes western-style poker game.
The stranger sat down at the table across from me, placing his chips heavily. He wore a black hat with a wide brim which he kept angled low over his face, to obscure his identity. My first thought—heck this stranger don’t have courtesy enough to remove his hat indoors. But this told me something about the man across from me—he wouldn’t have cared even if I ventured to admonish him about it.
There were four others of us at the table besides me, so the stranger completed the table. He said calmly, as he sat down, in a low dusky voice— “Deal me in.”
There was no kind of accent I could pick up, so he must have been from around these parts, but his manner of dress was strange. Perhaps he was a big city man come down to the country for some leisure.
The cards were passed to Lou on my right, and everyone anted up for another round of five card draw.
“What do you say we up the stakes?” the stranger said, and he placed his six-shooter on the table, pointing at me.
Everyone at the table reached for their pistols, but I held up my hand before any of them were out of their seats.
“The gentleman just sat down, let’s show some manners.” I said, as calmly as I could, though my heart was beating through my chest. “What am I to take this bet to mean, friend?”
“I ain’t yer friend.” He looked up, tilting his hat up and revealing the rugged, scruffy face hidden beneath, and the Sheriffs badge he had pinned to his kerchief. “I’ve been looking for you, Lone Wyatt. But I’ve got manners enough to not shoot a man while he’s sitting down.”
“Aren’t we all just blessed that you’ve got a sense of decorum,” I said. “What’s the bet?”
“Your life.”
“And if I win?”
“I’ll give you till morning to clear out of town. If you lose, we pull iron tonight.”
I laughed. “Such manners, friend. I own this town. Even if you kill me, you think my boys ain’t gonna fill you up with so much lead it’ll spill out your ears?”
“I’ve made my bet,” the stranger reclined in his seat. “You gonna play cards or whistle dixie?”
Anger boiled up inside me. “Deal.” I said. “And get that gun off the table.”
Everyone waited a tense moment while the stranger slowly picked up his gun and returned it to the holster on his hip.
Lou delt five cards to everyone at the table.
I turned up my corners. King hearts. King Clubs. King spades. Seven hearts. Two spades.
I put my cards back down and coolly regarded the other gentleman at the table, as they all looked at their cards.
I was next to Lou so I started the betting. I tapped the table twice—check. The man next to me did the same. Check. Check.
It came to the stranger. “Fifty.” He put two chips on the table.
The next man passed his cards to Lou—fold. Lou folded. I tossed my chips in. Fold. Fold. It was just the stranger and me.
I took my two cards—the seven and two—and passed them to the dealer, who dealt me two more cards.
The stranger took two cards as well.
I peeked at my hand. I now had King hearts, King clubs, King spades, King diamonds, Queen Hearts. I looked across at the stranger, who smiled brazenly.
I pushed all my chips into the table. “All in.”
The stranger said, “I hoped you would do that.” And pushed his chips in.
Lou said, stammering—“Sh-sh-showdown boys.”
All eyes were on me. I turned my cards over. Lou announced—“Four Kings, Queen high. And you s-s-sir?”
The stranger picked up his five cards.
“Queen.” He placed down the Queen of Spades.
“Ace.” He placed down the Ace of Diamonds. That didn’t look good.
“Ace.” He placed down the Ace of Clubs. My heart pounded in my ears.
“Ace.” He place down the Ace of Spades. My gun weighed heavy on my hip.
He paused for a moment.
He placed the final card—I reached for my gun.
(706 words—I do what I want)
The Promptee Has Become The Promptor
Your feedback helps to improve my writing. I would really appreciate a comment on your thoughts on this writing exercise. Consider telling me your thoughts about:
Do you like card games?
Have you ever played poker for real money?
What is your favorite party snack when you have friends over?
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy! Come back next week for another writing exercise!
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Thank you and God bless!
I love to play poker, and I think it's kind of pointless to not play for real money. Your story's not too shabby either...
Ah, I love a good closing line, and that one is just perfect for a Western-style story. (Mind you, the closest I've come to a Western is I saw My Darling Clementine once, and the M*A*S*H episode where they watched it in a camp movie night, but still).
I've never played poker, and I still don't understand the rules; I'm considering writing a story from a character with that perspective. :D
Favorite party snack, though? Pringles. Definitely Pringles. Wavy Lay's chips next, if possible.