Preface
This is a story Thom came up with based on people and places he knew from his youth. I am sure, given the chance and time, he would have written more about this imaginary small town in the middle of nowhere Indiana.
The Poker Game
Eph flipped a red chip toward the center of the table, and said, “Y’know, the worst thing about it is that he has such terrible taste. At least that guy Kennedy went for good-looking blondes. But can you imagine what Hillary looks like in the morning?”
Charlie said, “I’ll see that, and raise you,” sliding two red chips between them. “Oh, I dunno – that Monica gal is a little pudgy, but it’s in some of the right places.” He nodded toward the pictures posted on the back wall of the back room of Abe’s Roadside Auto Service. “She does have a fascinating mouth, doncha think?”
It was Wednesday night, and the regular weekly session of the PlumTree Corners Poker Club was under way. Surprisingly, Abe was not there – a service call had him and his wrecker somewhere out on Indiana’s highways. But everyone knew the combination to the back room’s door, so the session had started right on time.
“Awwhh, c’mon, guys – give him a break. I remember that Miss Arkansas – she wore a dress that was cut up to here (waving his hand in the air) on TV,” said Al. “I fold – but, Eph, I really don’t think you filled that full house.” Al got up, and went to look more closely at the photo display. It was one of the highlights of the poker sessions, because Abe did a great job of keeping up with the weekly updates. The new Miss Arkansas photo – actually, a very old picture – was the most recent addition.
Eph matched Charlie’s raise and said, looking around the table, “You in – Red? Harry? Si?” As his gaze revolved, each of the other players dropped their cards face down on the table. “It’s just you and me, Charlie, so let’s make it interesting.” Eph moved a gold chip into the pile at the center of the table.
BANG! A thunderclap crashed, then rumbled, and everyone jerked to look towards the roof. They had heard the raindrops start, but the nighttime thunderstorm’s attack had surprised them.
“Goldang!,” said Red. “I hope Abe isn’t crunched up under someone’s hood. It’s getting wet out there.”
The loud noise had silenced the room. Eph said, “Charlie – you playing poker or staring at the sky?” Charlie’s gaze moved from the roof, to the three cards in his hand and the other two face up on the table.
“Careful, Charlie,” said Harry. “Eph’s like that Starr guy – lot of action. Lot of bluff, too. Maybe he’s like that one who wanted a job. Ol’ Billy called her bluff. She didn’t get the job, and now she can’t even get a book contract. All because he wanted her to check the quality of fabric in his suit.” He snorted, and added, “And Abe’s picture shows she sure was no spring chicken.”
The Wednesday Night Poker Club was an ages-old traditional gathering in PlumTree Corners. You didn’t ask to attend; you got invited. Although everyone used their own names, no one used titles – but those who were there knew that among them was the township trustee, the president of the school board, the county’s district attorney, the largest landowner of the area, the president of PlumTree Corner’s bank, and the owner of the grain elevator. Only one missing on this particular night was the congregational president of PlumTree’s church – yes, Abe.
Red said, “Starr isn’t bluffing. He got what he needed a long time ago, whatever it was. But he’s got a great indefinite contract. I sure wish I had some grain contracts like that. ‘Course, you guys might go broke,” and he grinned broadly to show he was only kidding. “Harry would probably investigate me.”
Harry and Si had left the table, and were looking at the group of poster-size photos on the back wall, each of them with a female-name label. You could hear that both had decided the “Monica” mouth was prettier than that of “Paula” – and they were standing in front of that photo, even though the “Deborah” photo was newer. Si, who had helped Abe post the pictures, said, “Y’know, we’re going to have to bring the Playmates back pretty soon. All these keep getting older.”
Eph said, “CHARLIE! Play cards!”
“Dammit, Eph, hold your water,” said Charlie. “I’m thinking. That’s an awfully big pot there. And I don’t think you got your full house. If you did, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry. But I gotta worry about my social security, and if I take that pot, I’ll be hassling with income tax and lord-knows- what-all, for years. House rules, you know that, we’re not on a time limit here.”
The shutdown roar of Abe’s big wrecker’s mufflers filled the room. The back door slammed open, then shut, but not without splattering the drops of ongoing rainstorm all across the room. Abe entered, stomping his boots.
“Damn,” he said, “that rain is trying to be snow. I hate nighttime service calls, this time of year. But, wow, I gotta tell ya about this one!”
Again, Eph said, “CHARLIE! Play cards!”
Pulling off his slicker, Abe walked over calmly and stared at Eph’s cards...after all, he was not in this game. A smirk began to cover his face. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “you gotta hear about this one.”
“Big Lincoln, District of Columbia plates, blown fuel pump. Gal, all by her self. She looked to be real pretty, until I got up close. Strange hairdo, kinda beehive, y’know? And obviously dyed to help cover the gray. I had to tell her, right away, I only handled travel club cards on the road, and her credit cards and White House Pass were no good. She said, ‘fine.’ I hadn’t seen a White House Pass around here since Danny was running for something.”
“Whole time I was under the car, she kept yammering about knowing Billy and everyone else in Washington. What a mouth, yap, yap, yap!”
“So, when I get done...wow! You’ll never guess how she wanted to pay me!” Charlie said, “I fold.”
Eph snickered, and began pulling the center-table chips toward his stacks. “So, how did she pay you, Abe?”
Abe said, “I took her picture.”
