Fate called Luck. Luck raised five bucks.
Fate leaned back in his chair, like a fisherman before reeling in a shark. “You don’t want to start that with me. It starts as five dollars, then it goes up really fast, and you know I’m going to win. I always get the better hand. Fate always wins.”
“I’m feeling lucky.”
“If you’re feeling so lucky, why did you only go in five bucks?” asked Fate, tossing in a fin to match the pot.
“I raise you fifty bucks more.”
“You shouldn’t waste your money,” warned Fate, tossing in fifty dollars worth of poker chips in to the pot. “You know you’re going to lose. You haven’t won a hand from me all night. I’m Fate. That means I will always be bigger and stronger than you.”
“What are you, Fate? Big deal, I’m Luck, I can trump you any time.”
Fate slammed his gin and tonic on the table, spilling the top third of his drink. “I am Fate. From me you get the words, fatal, fatalistic, fated, these are some pretty heavy words. There’s nothing bigger than me. I am Fate. I determine everything.”
Luck laughed before filling his mouth with foamy beer; swallowing, he challenged, “Just answer me this: do I exist?”
“What?” Fate was befuddled.
“Simple question: do I exist? Do you acknowledge the existence of me here, now talking to you?”
“Then I win. If I exist, I win. The plane can be fated to crash, but, with a little luck, everyone on board can survive.”
John, who had been silent this whole hand, cause he’d folded off the deal, now spoke up, “What’s the point of me ever making a decision if both of you exist?”
Fate and Luck exchanged glances, their faces mirroring each other’s sheepish grins.
“I dunno,” admitted Fate.
“Beats me,” added Luck before pushing all his chips in to the center of the table. “I’m all in.”
Fate knew he would win. Luck had never beaten him before, always trying to bluff his way to the pot.
“You realize you’re sealing your fate? If you hang on to a single chip there’s always the chance you can come back. Going all in is kamikaze.” Fate pushed all his chips into the center of the table so that some of his chips spilled over to Luck’s chips. It didn’t matter, the winner would own them all anyway.
“Let’s see what you got,” said Fate, turning up his three Aces.
John was the only one to gasp when Luck turned his cards over. Four of a kind. All Aces.
“You cheating bastard!” Fate and Luck mocked each other.
“You’re cheating! You have four Aces! I have only three! Who cheats with three Aces?” Fate gave court.
“That’s the genius of it, just three, subtle. Nice try, we both know you’re the cheating lying bastard here. John, who do you think is the cheating lying bastard?” Luck turned to John.
“I don’t know. How bout you rock paper scissors for it?” John proposed.
Fate had the blind faith that he was fated to always win. If not, he’d be his ugly younger brother, Doom. Doom was a pain in the ass to hang around and rarely got invited to parties or poker.
“Let’s go,” Luck, feeling due, put out his fist across the table.
Fate met Luck’s fist halfway with a fist of his own.
“Rock, paper, scissors!”
John gasped as paper covered rock. “Lucky,” he said.