He dug his eyeball out of his red meaty face
and threw it down on the table:
I see your severed thumb
and raise you an eyeball.
I met his eyeball
and raised him three piggies
from my left foot
because I was in too deep now
and couldn’t let him know
I was bluffing.
The pot was rich now.
The scalpel dull and rusty
which made removal of anything
an adventure.
Tommy had renounced women a few weeks back.
He stood up, sliced it off:
guess I won’t be needing this anymore.
Hacking through the thing as though sawing through
a 2X4.
The loss of blood was incredible.
I could barely see my cards.
Balled up towels all over the floor.
No one else willing to meet his bet
Tommy took the pot.
He was the big winner,
but we all felt bad for him
somehow.
About Ryan Quinn Flanagan:
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, The Dope Fiend Daily, and The Oklahoma Review
Well, shit, that was intense. I dig it.
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