Moneymaker gave me a ring again last night, said he was low on cash and had a plan to score a big payday. After hanging up on him multiple times, Chris showed up at my front door.
"This plan is FOOLPROOF!" Chris exclaimed. "Come on, Nutz. You saw how good of a team we were at Foxwoods. This plan is GENIUS!"
"Alright, Chris," I said hesitantly. "Lay it on me."
"OK. Back when I played poker, I used to get invites to Doyle's secret home game. I mean, nobody knows about this game. Of course, I showed up with 50 bucks one time and they stopped letting me play, but that's beside the point. Anyway, I think I can get back into that game," he explained.
"Chris, I don't have the roll for that game, and you don't even have the roll for dinner at the Olive Garden," I shot back.
"Listen!" Moneymaker exclaimed. "You know that kid, Hevad Khan, the [censored] annoying [censored] at the World Series this year? He won a mil in the main event, and I can get him into the game."
"Great. So you can get him into the game. How does that make you or I s**tloads of money, Chris?"
Moneymaker flashed a deviant smile. "Oh, Nutz, you're going to love this idea."
The next night, myself, Moneymaker, and Hevad Khan headed to Doyle's place for the home game. Moneymaker and myself were dressed in medical attire, for reasons related to Chris' master plan. However, getting Khan into the game wasn't going to be so easy.
"Wait right there, son," Doyle said to Hevad as he was going to sit down. "I saw you acting like an idiot at the World Series and you should know that's not what poker's all about."
"[censored] right," T.J. Cloutier chimed in. "High stakes poker is all about playing cards...and skiing off fake titties."
T.J. chopped up a line of coke and snorted off a giant breast of one of the many scantily clad females roaming the room.
Moneymaker, wearing a fake beard and glasses as part of his disguise, cleared his throat. "Excuse me, fellas, but Hevad here has a medical condition known as Tourette's Syndrome which causes him to have ticks sometimes. Myself and my cohort here, Doctor Gutshot, have been sent to watch over Hevad."
Doyle put a sympathetic arm on Hevad's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. How rude of me. Have a seat."
Hevad sat to Doyle's left and played for about a half hour before "the plan" really kicked in. Hevad got up, pulled down his pants, and screamed "BULLDOZER!" He began dry humping Doyle while the table recoiled in horror. Hevad then put a blueberry pie on the table and shoved Jennifer Harman's face in it.
"EAT IT, YOU F**KING C**T! EAT IT!" he screamed.
Obviously, the room was total chaos at this point. While everyone was distracted by Hevad's antics, Chris and I systematically went around the table and raked bands of $10,000 into our duffel bags. Finally, Doyle called for us to help, where we dragged Hevad out of the room.
"Sorry about this, guys," I said with faux apologietic tones, "I guess Hevad won't be back at your game."
I tried not to laugh as Jennifer Harman broke down in tears, blueberry pie running down her face.
Hevad, Chris, and I went back to our hotel room and counted the bounty. $330K in total, split three ways. Not a bad day at the office. Afterwards, Moneymaker invited me over for Thanksgiving Dinner, but I just told him to never [censored] call me again instead.
