A Small Wager

A clear day, I think I can smell snow. I announce this to a friend from the Upper Midwest, who laughs:

"You want to place a small bet on that?"

"What?"

"I'll make it easy on you, 10:1 odds. If it snows, I pay you ten dollars. If it doesn't snow," he looks at me meaningfully, "you owe me a buck."

Sufficiently annoyed out of pneumonia-coughing, I rally with, "You want to make a wager with a woman--who sometimes has non-linear ah-hah's?"

Eyebrows raised, he gives me a put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is look.

I sniff. "You're on."

By nightfall, it's clouded up. By morning, big fat snowflakes are coming down, thick and lovely.

It's unseemly to gloat; I do grin.

Turns out he's strolling my way through winter wonderland with a ten-er to pay his wager, and a deck of cards to further entertain me. He teaches me to play five-card poker, and includes the jokers in the deck, appropriately, as I'm clueless about playing cards.

He empties out his pocket and starts me off with a stash nickles, dimes and quarters. A nickle opens the game.

Pretty interesting actually, deciding what to let go, if anything, to make room for a stronger hand.

After a bit, I'm dealt a jumble of five cards including the two jokers. Am not quite sure what I've got, but I push out a quarter, declining further cards.

"A quarter?!" he croaks, this being big bucks. He folds.

I fan out my hand, "What's this called?"

"Uh, a royal flush."

So, a good friend with robust good health distracts me from feeling awful. I've stopped coughing.

"You whooped my ass," he says. I grin.