The Gamblers

Saturday nights were not Honza's favourite. Twelve hours spent mainly in close proximity to drunk men who were loudly overjoyed at winning or aggressively miserable at losing; the croupiers weekend.

Honza sighed as he lazily spun the roulette ball. "Place your bets." He didn't mean that. He meant, 'keep your money in your pocket and sod off so I can watch the football'.

A fat man in a pink shirt with wine stains on the impossibly large white cuffs threw a few chips at him, "Seven and the neighbours," he belched.

"Seven Neighbours." Honza repeated and dropped the chips into place. "No more bets!" Honza called it, and watched the faces of the people around the table hungrily watching the ball trickle round the wheel for the last time. The ball bounced into the winning number,  Honza glanced and put his marker on the number,"twenty seven red", he called. The number had no chips on it; Honza cleared away the losing chips and went...