Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
I walk in the bar with my thigh high boots. The Black Bat Lounge is a local bar exclusively for vampire clientele. The song on the jukebox is 'Love Bites' by Judas Priest. I strut up to the bar and order a drink. "Bloody Mary, hold the Mary."
"On the rocks?"
"No, body temperature will be just fine."
I was here for one reason, to hustle some suckers at pool. I put my quarters on the pool table railing and waited. I started tapping my foot in tempo to the next song on the jukebox, 'If You Want Blood, You've Got It,' by AC/DC.
My turn came up and I racked the balls then grabbed a stick off the wall. I ate him for dinner as I easily ran the table. I snatched the twenty from his hand and slipped it into my left boot and waited for the next contestant. The next guy, who looked like a Marilyn Manson wannabe, put the quarters in and racked them up. Since I owned the table, I get to make the rules. "You need to call your shot and must bank the eight ball to win." I bled him dry as I easily, again, ran the table.
The next song that came up was 'More Human Than Human' by White Zombie and I was in the groove. I played for four hours straight without losing a single game. I was three hundred dollars richer than when I walked in the place. Then some high roller, sporting a long, black, red lined cloak, that called himself Dracula, wanted to bet two hundred dollars on a single game. I'd been waiting all night for this pigeon. He agreed to the rules and racked the balls. He was clearly the best opponent I had faced yet. We played until the only ball left was the eight ball. He easily made it straight into the side pocket. He grinned, bearing his fangs and rudely said, "Pay up, bitch." He pulled out his wallet to collect my two hundred dollars.
Just as 'Ain't No Rest For The Wicked' by Cage the Elephant started playing over the speakers, I walked around the table to where he stood and said, "Well, we have a little problem with that." I instantly broke my pool stick in half over my knee then viciously stabbed the wooden stake straight into his chest, piercing his heart. Just before he crumbled into dust, I snatched the wallet from his hand, pulled out two hundred bucks, threw it back in his face and added, "It was 'bank' the eight...bitch."
|
Thigh High Boots Contest Winner
|
|
|
Author Notes
I created this picture from 3 different Google Images.
To bank the eight ball means the eight ball actually has to bounce off a rail before it goes into a pocket. Being one of her rules, he actually lost the game because he didn't "bank" it.
Thanks for reading.
|
|