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'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the pit,
Many critters were stirring, except for one twit.
He weighed 300 plus, if he was an ounce.
At my double-deck table, he sat ready to pounce.
He bought in for five hundred, and it seemed kinda funny,
that a douchebag like this had that kind of money.
Sexy Jo sat while I stood, and I played and I spread,
ten to one hundred, for me serious bread.
I counted hi-low as we watched this guy play,
like he didn't know shit, and was born yesterday.
With a twelve 'gainst a six, he would hit with glee.
Jo and I laughed so hard, we thought we might pee.
Splitting jacks 'gainst a nine, he won a tidy amount.
Then he turned to the dealer and asked, "What's the count?
"You dealers count cards. I know that you do."
What was this guy smoking? Model airplane glue?
He was rude to the dealer, and never did tip,
So I did a little, though behind for the trip.
Soft sixteen 'gainst a five, he hit, got a ten.
Then he glared at the dealer and said, "Hit that again."
He spread his bets randomly, without rhyme or reason.
Too bad for us hunters it's not idiot season.
He left up two hundred. He actually won!
I did, too, a little, and had lots of fun.
He was one of a kind, a man no one could copy.
There can be no doubt, he was SUPER PLOPPY!
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Okay...I wax poetic but this is a true story. Everything I described above happened December 26 at the Golden Nugget. Incredible....
--TBW
