kind of exotic garbage.
During the delay for getting the bet covered, because no one wanted to fade him any more, C.K. kept whispering to the dice and shaking them.
“They tryin’ to cool you off, dice, they’s so afraid, they tryin’ to cool you off you so hot! Lawd, I feel you burn my hand , you so hot!”
“Take all or any of it, boys,” said C.K. “Goddamn, step back, we’re comin’ out!”
“Come on out then,” said Big Nail, standing behind the first row of those crouched around the money, “. . . with all of it.” And the bills fluttered down like big wet leaves.
“Shee-iit,” said C.K., not looking up, shaking the dice slowly, “. . . you hear that, dice? Man from the North put down his money . . . man from the North give his money now to see you natural seven! Yeah, he want to see your big seven, baby,” and he shook the dice gradually, and gradually faster now, near his head, rhythmically, as though he were playing a maraca or a tambourine, and he was humming along with the sound, saying, “. . . yeah, now you talkin’, baby, now you gittin’ it . . . yeah . . . yeah . . . now we comin’ out, dice, goin’ show ’im the seven, goin’ show ’im the ’leven,” and as he talked to the dice, his voice rose and his tone gained command until, as the dice struck the wall, he was snarling, “ Hit him you sonofabitch, SEVEN!”
Two aces.
Most were relieved that C.K.’s run was broken.
“Don’t look too much like no seven to me,” said someone dryly, “look more like the eyes of . . . of some kind of evil serpent! ”
“Hee-hee! That’s what it look like to me too,” said another, and then called out: “Turn up the light, Mister Wesley, way it is now C.K.’s natural-seven done look like snake-eyes! ”
“You have to turn off de light ’fore that ever goin’ resemble a seven!”
“Hee-hee! You turn ’em off, them snake-eyes still be there! Gleamin’ in the dark!”
C.K. sat still for a minute while Big Nail gathered the money. Then he got up and went back over to the bar.
“Lawd, lawd,” he said, shaking his head.
He filled his glass and took a big mouthful, swishing it around before he swallowed it. “Play the blues, Blind Tom,” he said, “play the blues one time.” But Blind Tom was playing a jump-tune; he was shouting it:
“My gal don’t go fuh smokin’
Likker jest make her flinch
Seem she don’t go fuh nothin’
Except my big ten inch . . .
Record of de ban’ dat play de blues,
Ban’ dat play de blues,
She jest love my big ten inch . . .
Record of her favorite blues
“Las’ nite I try to tease her
Ah give her a little pinch
She say ‘Now stop dat jivin’
An’ git out yoah big ten inch . . .
Record of de ban’ dat play de blues,
Ban’ dat play de blues,’
She jest love MY BIG TEN INCH . . .
Record of her favorite blues . . .”
After a few minutes, Big Nail returned to the bar; he was still counting his money and straightening out the crumpled bills.
“You know, I hear a right funny story today,” said C.K. then, looking at Old Wesley, but speaking loud, “ I had to laugh. There was these two boys from Fort Worth, they was over in Paris, France with the Army , and one day they was standin’ on the corner without much in partic’lar to do when a couple of o-fay chicks come strollin’ by, you know what I mean, a couple of nice French gals—and they was ver’ nice indeed with the exception that one of them appeared to be considerable older than the other one, like she might be the great-grandmother of the other one or somethin’ like that, you see. So these boys was diggin’ these chicks and one of them say: ‘Man, let’s make a move, I believe we do awright there!’ And the other one say: ‘Well, now, similar thought occurred to me as well, but . . . er . . . uh