The Cure, стр. 12

McGregor smiled back ‘Aye. To be sure Richards, I’ll let it go.’

They both looked to the man next to Richards and opposite McGregor. An absolute monster of a man, quite literally known to them as The Beast. This man never went hungry and he took whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He nursed a large tankard that looked like it belonged to some kind of Ogre and took a gulp which seemed to last forever.

‘I’ll see it.’ he grunted, and he pounded down a zip lock bag of meat on the table.

Richards gagged and looked away ‘What the…. What is that?’

‘Let’s just say it’ll accompany that tin of cat food nicely,’ smiled The Beast.

‘Hey, it’s all good guys. If you can cook it, it stays on the table,’ said McGregor.

The last man at the table was Doctor Montgomery Sherman. A small bespectacled man, who had lost everything once his job became superfluous and his wife later left him. By all accounts, in his previous life, he had built up quite a substantial nest egg which his now ex-wife lived off, with the few other people who had used their money early on to stockpile food and hide away from the rest of the world. Sherman on the other hand now slept in dank stairwells stealing food wherever he could find it.

Sherman looked at the two queens and three eights in his hands knowing that no-one at this table could beat his hand, especially as he had been counting the cards since the beginning of the game. However, what he couldn’t have known was that McGregor had four queens and an ace, having acquired two queens from somewhere within the right sleeve of his coat.

Sherman grinned, thinking that he would eat well tonight, unaware of McGregor’s hand and casually threw a can of peaches onto the table laughing out loud. ‘I see you’ he sung to McGregor who was smiling back at him. This unnerved him, a lot.

Richards and The Beast looked at Sherman scowling and waited for McGregor to place his cards down. Slowly McGregor put down two queens ’Two pairs’ he said. Sherman could hardly hold back his excitement, right up until McGregor put down his second pair of queens and he felt a single bead of sweat roll down his forehead. He knew McGregor had cheated, but he also knew that there was a possibility if he called him out and laid down his own cards, the other two men at the table might think it was him who cheated rather than McGregor. He didn’t want to end up on the table himself. But as he looked at the tin of peaches he had placed down not two minutes ago he felt something boiling up inside of him that he couldn’t repress. That food was his. He had won it fair and square. Without realizing, he raised himself to his feet and all three men were looking at him. Even stood up he was now only level with The Beast’s eye line. ‘He cheated!’ Sherman stammered.

‘What?’ McGregor said, looking for all the world like his feelings had been hurt.

Sherman’s cards dropped showing the full house and more importantly the third pair of queens on the table. ‘What?’ McGregor said again, looking at Sherman accusingly. In honesty though McGregor was just happy that no queens had turned up in the other men’s hands, because at least he could spin this against Sherman.

‘He cheated,’ Sherman stuttered.

‘What the Hell is going on here?’ Richards said standing to his feet.

‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ said McGregor.

All the time The Beast was composed looking at the cards in his hands.

‘How the Hell do we have six queens on the table,’ said Richards.

‘He cheated. He goddamn cheated,’ said Sherman.

‘How do we know it wasn’t you?’ said McGregor smiling a sly awkward glance towards Sherman, whilst trying not to look guilty.

‘I’ve been counting these cards since the game started,’ Sherman blurted out. ‘He CHEATED.’ Now this caught The Beast’s attention.

‘You’ve been counting cards?’ The Beast grunted. The barman reached down under the bar. ‘Explain this to me again little man,’ he stood up. ‘You’ve been counting the cards?’

‘Well, yes, that’s not against the rules. Is it?’ Sherman bravely replied.

Someone from the depths of one of the corners of the room oblivious to what was going on at the card table made their way to jukebox and gave it a kick. It stuttered, scratched and then started playing some Cypress Hill song.

Sherman didn’t feel a thing as The Beast brought an elbow down on his jaw almost ripping it clean off. He just lay there shaking on the floor unable to speak. Richards vomited at the sight of Sherman’s jaw mangled and hanging from his face and was retching uncontrollably. The Beast lifted Sherman off the floor by his shirt and threw him against the side of the bar with a sickening crunch. Sherman was still conscious and looked like a rag doll, looking up at The Beast waiting for death.

The Beast turned around to look at McGregor who was reaching for the food on the table, whilst Richards had slipped out the back door and was lent up against a wall behind the bar heaving. ‘Going somewhere Irishman?’ He said to McGregor.

‘Just collecting my winnings Beasty.’ I did win after all, regardless of that cheat over there.

‘He may be a cheat Irishman, but he’s a clever cheat. If he said he was counting cards, then that means you found two queens out of thin air.’

‘How can you believe a man like that? He’d do anything for a square meal Beast. Look at the weasel.’ Sherman was now fitting with blood and foam coming from his mouth. Without so much as a second