2 January 2011

Women Scream the Loudest


Sonja and I were first to sit down at our table. I had already put a bet on the first race being simulcast from Santa Anita. I turned on our table's tv and turned up the volume a little to hear the call of the race. Soon as I turned the volume up a bit an old guy in front of us started complaining about my tv being too loud. "It echoes down here. Can you turn it down?"

Sonja looked at me with her, "Who the fuck does that crazy asshole think he is?" look. We ignored him. We both hope not to become cranky motherfuckers if we live into our seventies or beyond. The horses were loading. My money was on the one. That was when the old cunt came up the stairs and started showing us how to use the volume control.

People are fucked. Sonja accidently spilled her drink on our volume control instructor. When he went back to his table to mop himself up we asked for and were shown to a new table by our waitress. The one came in at 3-1. I know the old guy. He was an owner. Used to talk to him and his buddies before the track renovated, plugged in the slots, the table games and unplugged the friendliness you will find at any old leaky roofed racetrack. Probably the old guy still owns horses, horses that are not winning much lately.

Jimi joined us at our new table. "I've got a new system," he told us as he spread his papers before him and ordered a coffee. "My new system is just like my old system except I am going to drink coffee instead of beer. I read somewhere that it might be better not to drink and gamble at the same time." Some asshole from a coffee company had probably come up with that idea.

The horses for the first live race of the day were being introduced. I bet the five. Jimi bet a different one. Sonja ordered us a couple more.

The standardbred horses all looked like winners in the winter sun. The five came in at 12-1. Jimi said, "Fuck me," as the five crossed the wire.

I bet on the next three winners as well. Couple favourites and one that came in at 9/2. Jimi gave up his coffee for beer after the fourth race he had lost in a row. Systems are for assholes. The only system that works at the track is chaos.

Hit two more favourites before the day was done. Nothing spectacular. Sometimes a table full of people would erupt in screams when a horse, or group of horses, the table had all bet on crossed the wire the way the table's wise guy had predicted. Loud motherfuckers. The women scream the loudest. The old guy who did not like our loud tv must have been going crazy.

I never bet with other people. When I am gambling it is me against the world. Fuck the world is all I am saying.

2 comments:

RossK said...

You know....

It's not just tracks....

In fact....

Just about anything that is old and leaky-roofed...

Is.


_________
(friendly, I mean)


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uniplmr1 said...

I like women that erupt in screams, too. Validation is what is denoted, the proper technique. I crave it like a motherfucker.