it_was_a_king fyn gula "asseyez vous," vichy said, and i sat down, scraping the cane back chair across the red bricks scattering a group of lazy pigeons. i could see vichy's eyes were bloodshot from the pernod he was drinking, but it wasn't anise breath only that i smelled. it was lemon scented geranium that jamie was rubbing with her fingers. "we play one hand," vichy said, in drunken french, a devilish grin speading over his grisled face, and i noticed for the first time he was missing a tooth on the left side. he produced a pack of cards with an intricate design of fleur de mont martre. his calloused finger cut the deck. "si vous gagnez," he said, throwing back the remains of his tumbler and banging it on the marble table top. "vous gagnez papillion." his hot breath was like standing too close to a fire. "ludicrous," i thought. he would never part with his beloved jack russel." "si vous detruisez," he said, and his impish smirk returned. his blurred gaze was now on jamie. she was oblivious. but when she heard what he said, her mouth dropped open and the silver ball on her tongue glistened like the sun on the mediterranean. "you fucking weasel," i thought to myself. i could taste the blood in my mouth from biting my lip. i knew she would go with him. she had no choice. it was the french way. so he dealt the cards and i picked them up, trembling inside. ten jack queen ace seven i needed a king. i threw down one card. "vous etes un imbecile," vichy said, and i knew what he meant even before he finished his sentence. i struck him with more strength i ever knew i possessed but he barely flinched. a small trickle of blood, red as anger, oozed from his lip. he smiled and this time it was genuine. he gave me my card. it was a king. he poured me a glass of pernod. "cheers," i said, and threw it back with one swallow. 010505 ... farmfish that's why jamie won't drink pernod. 020322 ... crOwl and now we play dominos to endure the brutal pennsylvania winter. 041215 what's it to you? who go blather from