Jackpot On The... Spot 1/2

Brynt walked inside the hotel, booked a room and went straight up the stairs to his door -- with the number 532 on it -- to hit the hay. He wanted to get up early in the morning to get a good start. 

"Hey! Stop moving around. I'm trying to sleep, you little disobedient vegetable!" cried a girly voice from the right corner of the brain. That comment was followed by similar ones, though, stated differently. 

After a long struggle, Jack tried to push and shove the other personalities to reach his destination on the throne. Most of the them were too tired from their long previous argument with Brynt that they ended up sleeping almost immediately when he fell onto the bed. Now, it was Jack Pot's turn to have all the fun. 

Fortunately for him, he loved resting during the day so at night he could have all the entertainment he hankered. 

While Brynt had entered the hotel, Jack realized which Saloon he had walked into. It was one of many which he favored to spend the entire night taking people's money.

Amateurs! Why do they bother coming to this place? Oh well, more for me I guess, Jack said to himself while changing into his natural clothing; a wing collared shirt, bootlace tie and hat, an extra leather gun holster and cowboy boots. He shook his shoulders and walked out of his room, headed to the door that led him to his personal paradise. He opened it and saw people swarming around, luring him to come in.

The saloon had not changed at all. It still flaunted that famously red mahogany ornate bar with huge back-bar mirrors, covered by miscellaneous bottles of alcohol and a brilliant chandelier that hung at the center of the room.

"Hey, Crock! Where have you been? I thought it was you that entered the Saloon but you seemed a little... different. Have you come to play?" A short young man shouted from a distance, mocking his surname. He was Harry Battocks. He was about the same age as Jack and according to his reputation he had a good gambling talent which Jack loved to hang around with.

"Of course I've come to play. What do you think I am? A fool?" Jack replied to Harry.

"And a crockadoodledo to you, too." He said back, turning around to sit on a table; Jack followed behind him.

"So, Hairy Butt, what are we going to play tonight?" Jack said, shooting a sobriquet of his own to Harry.

"How about that one over there?" He hinted with his eyes to the table for the bluffing game.

"I have no problem at all, just don't get the chairs too sweaty from lying too much. It might grow hair of its own." Jack said, highlighting his previous name calling to Harry. He followed that remark with a grin, but Harry ignored him.

As they walked up the table, a familiar voice called out, "Well look who it is, boys. What happened Jack? Did you put on some fertilizer on yourself to get that height? Seems you have grown a little." 

What was with everyone and Jacks last name? Couldn't they just put his first name together and figure out that he was the jackpot. No one could beat him.

"Hey, Dick. I didn't realize you like planting. Why don't I sit on your lap to comfort you from your absence of pottering." 

Dick's true name was Richard, but Jack called him that to agitate him. Nevertheless, as much as Dick loved to tease people, he hated them giving him something in return. Everyone in the Saloon feared him, except for Jack. He liked shooting his guns as much as shooting out insults back to Dick, but they were getting rusted as Dicks unused pants. "Or maybe you should have my surname so you can feel a little gay once in a while."

"Let's make a bet, shall we then? You win, I get a plant for Christmas, but if I win you can get insect poison for yourself to get rid of the little buggers that are biting at you."

"At your service Captain Gardener!" Jack said, saluting Dick with two fingers on his forehead. " Do you suggest any in particular? I'm not much of an expert as you."Jack made a pleading expression, then went to get some money out of his pocket. 

He paused. 

He started searching through his other pocket. And the other. And the other. He only found five dollars and twenty cents.

"What happened? Dog ate your money?" Dick said insultingly. "On my table I like to start with fifty not one tenth of it. Why don't you turn your leaves into money so we can get started, or do you not have that talent quite yet?"

Jack grabbed Harry from his arm and hauled him out of his seat away from the table so as not to be heard.

"What's going on, Jacky?" Harry asked; confused.

"Do you have money with you?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?" Jacked shouted, not waiting for an answer. He looked around in every direction, flipping his head side to side in search for hope.

There was one man standing at the bar, minding his own business, but alert, looking at the players from afar. He looked like a rookie from Jack's tentative eyes. He walked up to the man, flashing the five dollar note in front of his face and asked, "Head or tails?"

The man indicated that Jack should choose, changing his vigilant composer into complete confidence. 

"Okay, tails."

The End

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