The Heart of the Cards

In honor of my recent level-up, I will present you with a True Story that seconds as a metaphor.  If you wish, you may read along with the following music, which I believe sums up the occurrences quite well. Pace yourself and read with the flow of the music yo.  And don't stop.  Even if you misread something power forward.  Go for it!

Darn it, I crashed the website that the midi was on.  So I'll have to make do with a silly youtube.  I thought my quicktime player was so cool though!

I, Matt Butrim, boldly walked over the threshold of the door and into the room that contained my destiny.  The air was filled with smoke and the dull light did not hide the decay of the room; it only made it stand out more.  Over in the corner of the room I saw drugs being dealt, and favors being exchanged.  But none of that was my business.  I was standing alone in the career center during seventh period for only one purpose.  To take on the world.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head upwards, inhaling the clean air hovering above the smoke.  Behind me, I heard the door slam shut, closing me off from any chance of aid, and from anything but myself.  I was all that I had.  I was going to make a stand at Thermopylae and come out living.  I was going to win.

Snapping my eyes open, I pushed through the heavy smoke, approaching the lone table sitting in the middle of the iniquitous room.  A bouncer grabbed my shoulder and I spun around, cowing him with the determination in my stare.  He slunk away and I continued my crawl through the dense air of inhuman stench.  There was the table, and there was the empty chair awaiting my presence.  I pulled it out and sat down.  It was time to play.

I surveyed my landscape and my opponents.  The shrouded faces that sat circled around the table slowly became visible as my approach swept away the fog.  To my left, Austin the Aggregatizer, to my right, David the Dastardly Delicious.  Beside the Aggregatizer the faces of Toby the Totally-Hot and Andrea the About.com phased into recognition.  Next to the Dastardly Delicious appeared Derek the Demon-Slaying Demon and Diane the Duchess of Dangerously Driven Vehicles.  And finally, across from me, slowly shifting into visibility, I saw the gruesome faces of Ben the Bravest of Blacks, David the Debunker of Women, and Tania the Tacky Tumor.  I had walked alone and unarmed to the Ravager's front door, and I was going to give him my most well-mannered greeting possible.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet and threw it on the table.  This was Texas Hold'em and there were no holds barred. The cards were dealt, the blinds were out, and the betting began.  Every single one of my opponents called on the first round.  Ohhhh yeahh.  It was gonna be a tough fight.  And it was gonna get down.

Hands flashed before me as I fought battle after battle.  Jack, King.  Two, Seven.  Pocket Threes.  My pile of chips rose and it fell.  Eight, Queen.  The flop offered hope and the river denied it.  The blinds sucked the life out of me, forcing me to move forward at all costs.  Four, Five.  The Coalition of the Willing suffered the same rise and fall of fate and hope.  Seven, Ace. Action, action, action.  Sweat dripped from my face as I numbed myself to the agonizing toll this battle was taking on me.  Eight, Nine.  Queen, Queen.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Chips flew across the table, side by side with newly dealt hands and the discarded hands of the defeated.  Nobody was ever defeated permanently, rising again the next round to take the pot.  It was a stalemate.

Suddenly, everything slowed back down.  Toby the Totally-Hot had bet the house.  Silently, each of the Coalition of the Willing folded their cards, looking solemnly at their ally.  The bet came around to me.  Behind me the flickering blue neon sign creaked.  The Coalition of the Willing had turned their oppressive stare towards me.  I looked at my cards, saw a Jack and an eight of spades.  The smoke had fallen around the table once again and I coughed.  I looked at the cards on the table; nine, ten, and Ace of spades, and a three of hearts.  I looked at my hand again.  The jukebox in the corner wheezed out an old song from the eighties.  I looked at the deck in the dealer's hand, flipping a chip nervously in my hand.  In the opposite corner another jukebox clashingly whined out a techno song.  I called.  I trusted in the heart of the cards.  The dealer dealt the river.

It was a Queen of diamonds.  One short of a straight flush, but it was a straight all the same.  Toby the Totally-Hot revealed his cards, he had a three of a kind of threes.  I had won.

Then the Ravager burst through the back door.  He knocked Tania the Tacky Tumor to the side with the back of his hand.  The dealer started to protest, but the Ravager's glare shot him down.  We began to battle.  Skirmishing back and forth, I started pulling ahead.  The Ravager was desperate.  He smoked cigar after cigar, but the heart of the cards was abandoning him.  So he came to a desperate decision.  The Ravager betrayed the Coalition of the Willing.  As each fell to the ground defeated, the Ravager coldly turned his back.  Taking everything they owned he directed it full force at me.  Finally it came to what it always had to have come to.  Me and him.  Matt Butrim and The Ravager.  The tides flowed in every direction.  The light bounced off the smoke, illuminating the Ravager's head in a filthy halo.  I sat in the dark.  He won sometimes, I won others.  Neither of us committed anything.  We tested each other.  Probing with feints, withdrawing quickly.  The music of the two jukeboxes landed on the same track.  Decks of cards lay discarded on the ground around us.

I blindly threw cards down, letting my instincts take over.  My heart was with my teammates.  The few who had stuck with me.  Peter, my first ally, who had stuck with me from the start.  Claire.  Erin.  Alrex.  Tania had betrayed me, but I was still fighting for her.  The Ravager?  He fought for no one but himself.  That was why I was there.  That was why I fought.  I felt my teammates urging me forward.  I felt their hearts in the cards.  The dealer dealt.  I put my hand on my cards, and I felt their warmth, piercing through the cold smoke.  I didn't even bother looking at what they were.  I could just feel it.  These were the ones.

Then the flop.  Two of Hearts, Queen of Hearts, King of Hearts.  I checked.  The Ravager raised.  I called.  The turn.  Ten of Hearts.  I checked.  The Ravager raised again.  I called.  The river.  Jack of Hearts.  A flush on the river.  I looked at the pot.  I looked at my chips and I looked at the Ravager's chips.  I looked at the Coalition of the Willing, drained of all their energy.  I looked at all the spectators, slaves to the Ravager's domain.  And I closed my eyes once again.  In the black of my head I was not alone.  My allies were with me.  They encouraged me forward.  And I pushed my chips into the center of the table.  I went all in.  I bet it all; everything that I had built, everything that I had owned, everything that I dreamed of.  It all sat in the middle of the table.

Now I'm all in.  The move is yours Rakshit Bhardwaj.

I'm trusting in the Heart.