Hustle

Our old friends Gary and Ted came round again tonight.  It was their monthly pilgrimage to The Spanish Onion café to play poker with us.  As usual Gary and Ted ate our mixed nuts and drank our wine and then completely emptied our wallets of all of our cash.  It’s the sort of humiliating financial ritual we have come to expect and love them for.  They call it fun. We call it twilight robbery.  Guido and I are crap at playing cards.  I told him to wake up and smell his single origin coffee in the cold light of day.  Perhaps Gary and Ted weren’t the two closest and dearest friends we thought they were.  They could be a couple of despicable hustlers and we would be idiots not to try to set a trap to catch them in the act. 

“I do hate passengers who try to join the mile high club in the washroom during a flight on a turbo-prop,” said Gary shifting his cards around.  I had no idea if Gary had ever had sex himself in an aircraft toilet, but as he is a professional flight attendant who routinely lands in Manchester, let’s just say if anyone should know then he would. 

“Ah,” I said winking at Guido and tapping my cards, “the old distracting sex in the aircraft toilet ploy.” I sensed a hustle going down.  Ted took a card and threw one. 

“Oh please, let’s keep things simple,” said Ted, “my secretary at the bank once had hot sex in the cupboard in our office.  I’m pretty sure it must have been the size of an aircraft toilet in there.  The only problem was it had a window, so people could see into it from the building next door and she got filmed copulating with her legs in the air.  She made out with this big hairy Hispanic guy and it ended up going viral on XTube.” He squashed a stuffed pepper, “personally I’d have promoted her.”

“Okay,” I said smiling a rye smile, “Let’s just say I am recognising a theme here.”  I looked at the cards in my hand.  They were shit.  “You are using torrid sex as a subtle distraction to divert our attention and win the game.  XTube?  Really?” 

I sucked a salty olive.  I looked at Guido.  His eyes were glazed over in a crazy way.  I think he was already mentally taking part in an Xtube download.  Either that or he was thinking about us having sex on a turbo-prop or doing it in a cupboard.  As we were unlikely to have access to a turbo-prop aircraft any time soon I was guessing we were probably in his fantasy larder.  This would mean we’d be naked and be surrounded by tins of tomatoes, dried pasta and a couple of Iberian hams.  Suddenly losing the game didn’t seen that important any more.  In fact, the quicker we lost the better.  

“And there you go,” I said flipping my losing cards on the table and showing Guido’s too, “you win again, you guys.”  

We couldn’t get Gary and Ted out of the door quick enough. 

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