story making competion

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: coldfire
Alright, you got me. I am Steven Hawking, and bodybuilding is my new hobby. I am sick of physics. I wish I could train, and not just read about others training.

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ORIGINAL: twistedlink

**** happens and youre never going to look better than Yet, just deal with it

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: Good Riddance

                                                The Gamble
 
I watch them stroll through the strip without a care in the world and can’t help but wonder what it would be like to live like them. I silently laugh at the crazy thought, because I’m nothing like those people. I try to imagine my small frame in a thousand dollar suit with my long curly brown hair hanging in my eyes, trying to look sophisticated, but it gives me a headache. Thoughts like that can drive a man crazy. Those people are the finest in Las Vegas, people born into more money than they know what to do with.
            “Hey! Where’s my drink, man?” Some hotshot businessman yells from across the room. If he only knew the kind of respect I use to get he might have been a little more polite. It wasn’t long ago that I was at the top of my game, playing poker as a lifestyle and relishing every minute of it, and every dollar. I had money, power, women, everything I wanted, but most of all I demanded respect at the tables.
            “Here you go sir, sorry ‘bout that.”
            I put on a fake smile and go through the same routine, just like I do every day. I haven’t touched a card, or any type of gambling for that matter, since the night I lost it all. One game, heads up, and I lost $100,000. I lost everything I had that night because I got arrogant, and I almost broke down in the days following. Doyle Brunson, a cowboy looking man of about 70 years old, took my money that night with a smile. The fact that he is one of the best poker players in the world doesn’t take that sick feeling out of my stomach just thinking about it.
            After work I head back to my apartment, which is humble to say the least; it’s hard earning enough money legitimately to afford a nice house, and cook myself a small dinner. Waiting on Seth to show up, I think about my old gambling days. Seth still gambles when he feels the urge, which is almost twenty-four hours a day, but he’s supported me while I’ve been turning my life around. As good of a friend as he is, he still thinks he is funny and likes to make jokes about me making a comeback to the poker world.
           “Evan! What’s goin’ on man? You wanna go hit the slot machines?” Seth laughs at his own joke as he slams my front door open and lets himself into my living room. He thinks he is hilarious, but I have a little surprise of my own.
“No thanks man, I’m more of a card player.”
           This caught him off guard and now I get to laugh at the stupefied look on his face. He blinks a few times and then finally pulls himself together.
           “You sure man? You know I was only jokin’.”
           “Yeah I know, but I’ve been thinking about it lately. Why not?” A slow smile creeps across my face as I throw on my jacket and head for the door.
           As I sit at my first poker table in months I feel a rush of adrenaline hit me. This is who I am. This is where I’m supposed to be. I’m a gambler, not a waiter. I haven’t been this alive since that night, and I can’t help but smile. The first cards fall and catch a seven and a deuce. I almost begin to doubt myself until I see the flop. Seven, seven, deuce. At that moment I look around the table at all the other players, and feel like a wolf laying with sheep. They have no idea what is about to happen.
             I play well into the night, with Seth backing me up every step of the way, waiting for my chip count to start falling and to tell me to just cut my losses and get out. I think maybe he might be actually worried about me, which surprises me because he doesn’t usually show that kind of emotion. He is waiting for the cards to stop falling for me, for me to hit an unlucky streak, but it never happens.
           The weeks pass and I keep winning, my hot streak never even cools down, and I quickly build up my chip count. That’s when I see him. Doyle Brunson is back in town, and he is in the same casino as me, and in the same room.
           “Hey, think this through man. He is good, just let it go.” Seth says.
           I guess I had been quietly following his every move and not noticed, but Seth did. I just give Seth a confident look. There is no way I am losing tonight, and I tell him as much.
           “It’s your life man, and I’ll back you up, you know that. Just don’t let the guy get in your head.”
           After sitting at his table and playing a few hands I can’t decide if he remembers me or if I was just another young kid who learned a lesson from Doyle. We eventually clear the table of everyone except the two of us, and then he speaks for the first time.
           “So why’d ya come back, kid?” asks Doyle Brunson. He is a legend in the poker world, past his prime, but still one of the best. And he remembers me. At first I am just dumbfounded and can’t seem to find any words.
           “Listen, you were good kid, and I caught a lucky break, so why…”
           “Let’s just play cards, man.” I quickly cut it. I couldn’t let him get in my head like that, the way he actually sounded sincere troubled me.
           The cards were falling for me, and it looked like I would take him out quick and easy, but it’s never easy. He tightens up his game and slowly rebuilds his chip count. He actually takes a small lead on me before long, and I begin to settle in for a long game. Then comes the hand that would eventually end it. I get and ace and a deuce in the hole and see a flop of deuce, deuce, ace. I’ve got a full house, deuces full of aces. I decide to risk it all and go all in, assuming that he will see the obvious play and fold out, which would give me an easy hand.
           The very second he calls I know instantly what he has, and it stops my breath. With an almost regretful look he turns over his pocket aces. He has me beat. I lost everything, again.
           He tries to talk to me as I stand up, but I’m dazed. I just walk away without looking behind me, not sure what to think. In the back of my mind I notice Seth walking backwards right in front, almost yelling at me about something. I think he is trying to tell me to calm down, that everything will work out, but I don’t quite understand him.
           Everything seems to get a little blurry as I walk back towards my apartment. I notice that Seth stopped trying to talk to me, but he was still walking right by my side. As I’m walking up the stairs to my apartment the realization begins to sink in and I miss a step, stumbling slightly. My eyes actually begin to tear up at how pathetic I am, but Seth is there to catch me just like he always is.
           I get settled on my couch and Seth tries to talk to me some more, but my mind is racing. Everything that I’ve done for myself is gone, I’m pathetic. A sudden thought occurs to me that I never expected. I slowly turn my head to my best friend.
           “Seth,” I say slowly, “get out.”
           He looks confused for a second and tries to talk but I won’t let him.
           “Seth I said leave!” I scream, “Just listen to me for once and get the hell out of here!.”
           Tears are streaming down my face at this point, but I can’t seem to control them, my mind is still racing. He slowly gets up and walks towards the door. I try my hardest to ignore him, but I hear some tell me that we will work through this and that he will stop by tomorrow morning to check on me. He has no idea how ironic that is.
           After he is finally gone, with eyes blurry from the tears still streaming out of them, I reach into my closet and grab the small pistol I kept from when I was in some debt with the wrong kind of people. I sit on my couch and look at the deck of cards sitting on my table. I think about my life for a while, I’m not sure how long I sit there. I finally start to build up enough hate to finish it when a thought occurs to me. I can’t do this to Seth. Can I? After he has been here for me through thick and thin, can I really be this selfish? I put my finger on the trigger and quickly stick the barrel to my head.
 

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: brihead301

I chew glass and turn it into sand. I also train in -25° whether sometimes just to toughen me up. As an ab workout, sometimes I'll have someone beat me across the stomach with a wooden stick until I turn purple. I stepped on a nail once and liked it.

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ORIGINAL: brihead301

I chew glass and turn it into sand. I also train in -25° whether sometimes just to toughen me up. As an ab workout, sometimes I'll have someone beat me across the stomach with a wooden stick until I turn purple. I stepped on a nail once and liked it.

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ORIGINAL: getnswole

not a rhyme dummee
a story you see.
kingyoto is great
but small like a flea.

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ORIGINAL: Yet

"Gay, straight? It's the new millenium, who cares, I'll suck a dxck for a ride."

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ORIGINAL: Red PittBull

Swole ruined it. 

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ORIGINAL: coldfire
Alright, you got me. I am Steven Hawking, and bodybuilding is my new hobby. I am sick of physics. I wish I could train, and not just read about others training.

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ORIGINAL: twistedlink

**** happens and youre never going to look better than Yet, just deal with it

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ORIGINAL: getnswole

they werent fried