Annie has what she calls poker night, even though she hasn’t a clue how to even play poker, and she can’t even count, whenever she deals everyone gets a different amount of cards.    She plays a game that is a cross between, go fish and old maid, random pieces of paper with family members drawn on them are wild.   My wild card; it’s a picture of me, slamming a keg of beer and for some odd reason I am wearing a skunk skin coat, my name is Slamming Slam; I don’t drink.

Annie started,  poker night right after my daughter got Kiko and the pair of them became besties.   They loved poker night, eating deep fried rat guts, slugging down Moose made root beer.   Kiko would invite a few dog friends from the neighborhood and Annie would normally bring Alley, occasionally Snoopy or Janey if they had something Annie wanted and she could get them to bet it.   She makes the rules up as she goes along, always in her favor.   Annie winds up with everyone’s stuff, and no one seems to care.   And she makes them bring the food too.   They keep coming though so they must like it.    Annie always picks the spot, that is the hardest job of all according to Annie.   Actually she just randomly shows up at someone’s house and it’s on.   They all get to wear visors so maybe that is it.

Last night was here, I begged her not to I thought she was going to work with my boyfriend but she said she was sending her clone.   At nine thirty I am getting ready for bed and my youngest grand daughter Phil comes running in.   I am thinking what in the world.    Annie screams, “She’s here for poker night!”   “Where is her mom?” I ask.  Annie shrugs and says, “Sleeping?”   “Does she know?” I scream.   Annie says, “Does she need to? ”   “Take her back, Annie!” I stamped my foot and raised my voice.   “She’s my sister,” Annie replied the sound of defeat in her voice.   “Annie…” Then Annie screams, “OH MY GOD ALMIGHTY FINE SLAM, YOU FAT STUPID UNDERWEAR HEAD!”  She starts getting her scooter and I am like, “Teleport her Annie.”

The game begins with a traditional round of farts.  Everyone around the table farts, starting with Annie.     In addition to Annie, is Kiko, Alley, a homeless cat named Paul and a guy who looks like a old toothless version of Rod Stewart, he comes pretty often lately.    He supplies dead pigeons for buckets of birds.  He can fart out songs, it’s pretty funny.   Then after the fart game, Annie squirts her air freshener which smells like farts.

The game starts and Annie starts screaming, “I got the Morbid Morganna wild card.  It’s the luckiest card in the deck who ever gets it is the winner!”   (Morganna is my granddaughter too.)  “Yippee I won a shopping cart!” Annie screams and laughs her crazy laugh.

“Annie,” I yell while holding my nose to keep from breathing the stench.   “You have eight of them already, your winning streak ends now!”

Even though I was in another room, the smell coming from the kitchen where the poker game was held, was overwhelming.    And having the door shut did nothing to muffle the noise.  I knew there was no way, I was going to get any sleep.

I decided to wander out and see if there was any coffee left, and I stepped in something mushy.   “Sorry, Slam, Chad has die-a-rear!  That fart solo was great Slam did ya hear it?  Chad show Slam how you was dancing…OH MY GOD ALMIGHTY SLAM…”

“Yes Annie I heard, and I can tell exactly how he danced…there is a trail of poop making a map of his movements on the wall.”

Annie starts laughing her crazy laugh and the phone rings.   It’s my boyfriend, saying someone stole our car.   My first thought was not possible, my second thought Annie.   I looked out the window and saw the car in the driveway.    “Annie did you drive the car home?” I screamed!

“Yeah, why?”  she shrugged.

“How is Dad supposed to get home?”  I yelled.

“He’s at work?”

“Yes Annie!  Why would the car be at his job?”

“Oh yeah.   Want me to teleport him a scooter?”

“No Annie, teleport the car, and teleport your friends home and poker night is over!”

“Really, Slam that is the dumbest thing that ever came out of your piehole.”

“And furthermore, Annastasia Annamarie Albergetti…I am going with you.”  I growled.

She knew I meant business when I pulled the triple A.   So all of us loaded into the teleporter along with the car and made a instant move from one place to another.   Annie takes off to get my boyfriend and the old guy Chad is watching people get burgers and fries and drinks and he is drooling.   This long piece of spit is running down is old wrinkly, toothless cheek, his bright yellow mullet sticking up all over his head like spikes.

“Uh Chad, you want a burger or something?” I asked handing him a dozen napkins.

“Nah, nah,” He waves his old wrinkly hand at me, inhaling deeply as a man walks by with a steaming plate of onion rings.

“Either you go get something or I will.” I insisted.

“Okay,” he agrees.   “I have allergies, and well you would just spend too much.”

He ordered, a burger and fries and when the cashier suggested that a meal was cheaper and it came with a drink, he shook his old mullet head, and said, “nah nah, I don’t want all of that.” Then he agreed to buy two tiny cans of tea for a buck and a half a piece and received a free promotional bag to carry his food in.

I rode home with my boyfriend.   Thank goodness, poker night is at Paulie’s house next time.

 

 

 

 

 

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