“Which is better, a flush or a straight?”
Raul ruffled the tops of his cards and bit his lip. He nudged Hammersmith, who was staring into the rafters of the theater, his jaw slack.
“What?” Hammersmith asked groggily.
Julia returned from the bathroom and opened another can of grapefruit soda.
“Which is better, a flush or a straight?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
Hammersmith got up to stretch and threw his cards carelessly on the table, revealing three jacks.
“Damn, you fold with a hand like that Hammersmith? Damn.”
“I don’t fold. I just don’t want to play cards anymore.”
“I get your Cheetos.”
“Whatever.”
“What do you want to do?” Julia asked, looking at Hammersmith while laying her head on the table and allowing her arms to dangle to the floor.
“The play, man! Let’s do the fucking play!”
“Why do you have to use the f-word all the time?” asked Raul.
David Hammond 