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Pokernight: Amusing 19th Century Melodrama, or Hive of Angry Bees?

To: poker-night
From: electroblake
Subject: Pokernight: Amusing 19th Century Melodrama, or Hive of Angry Bees?
Date: Thu, 29 Mar 2007 19:49:16 -0400

When we last left our intrepid hero, the amazing pokerduck had fallen
into the seventeenth circle of oblivion and was fighting to save his
immortal soul from the grips of the evil marching band instructor,
The Pacekeeper. After a half time show which had lasted a dozen
eternities the poker duck finally discovered the exact resonant
frequency of the The Pacekeeper’s evil doing skull and with a long,
steady blast from his Tuba of Oblivion (like a regular tuba, but more
oblivious) the poker duck delivered a powerful sonic attack upon the
unsuspecting evil marching band instructor, causing his head to
implode violently all over the 50 yard line (that’s something from
sports, right?). As the blood and gore settled into the astroturf,
the pokerduck found himself dematerializing from the seventeenth
circle of oblivion. He had won, it seemed. He was returning to his
normal life!

The poker duck woke up to the WREEE! WREEE! WREEE! WREEEK! of his
standard issue red numeraled alarm clock around nine in the morning
with a bad hangover and the bitter stale taste of old cigarettes in
his mouth. He rolled over and flopped his limp hand/wing onto the
snooze button. The alarm clock stopped its screeching and the poker
duck fell back asleep to dream of horrible screeching.

Later that same day the poker duck actually woke up, got out of bed,
washed himself, fixed a healthy well balanced breakfast, threw the
breakfast on the floor, tranquilized the dog, used the passed out dog
to mop up the mess he had made, went to work, solved several major
contemporary problems in math and science, destroyed the moon, and
nailed his porn star girlfriend while watching Mr. Show vs. Dr.
House: Miami. This would be enough for any normal style duck of not
non poker persuasion, but the poker duck would not rest until he had
settled his score with the evil baron of physical security: The Evil
Lady Luck! Thusly, he devised a plan to lure the lady into a quaint
Somerville apartment where she would be devoured by his hoards of
screaming mechanical alcohol powered henchmen. He called it “Casino
Night.” Don’t go to it. It sucks. Go to poker night instead.

Poker night!

dangerhouse is XX xxxxxxxxx xx. #X somerville ma, america aka center
of the universe.

“first hand at nien”

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