Pocket Fiction

Card People

Published February 25, 2018 in Mickey - 0 Comments

Card People

Some nights it seems like a flat world with eight sides.

One for each day of the week

and one for hyperbole and dreams.

And if lady luck don’t give a fuck,

Mickey could look out over a sea of chips;

red, white and blue

and see Mother earth’s seven seas

as seven great head hunting mouths

ready to devour him and his American boy past time.

He couldn’t believe this guy had such a disgusting tell.

But it was plain to see.

Every time he had a bad hand

he picked his nose and rolled it between his fingers.

Smelled it.

“It came from your nose, there’s nothing to smell!”

Mickey wanted to scream.

But he kept quiet, checked

and took his entire pile of chips.

And a big squeeze off the hand sanitizer.

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