The PokerBat has been in the Poker Hospital all but retired from the insidious game that almost cost him his life. *That exhilarating story to come, keep reading dear reader, and to the Miley Cyrus fans that came to this site because of the Miley Cyrus Three Nipple Nude Pictures tag keep reading too you won’t be disappointed.
So, despite battling poverty, obesity, and a skin condition under his muffin top his doctor described as crease rickets, the Bat couldn’t resist a good tournament at the IP Casino in Biloxi, MS. Thus the Bat got on his Vespa, to make the long trip south. What? Times are hard and the Bat has to travel as best he can. Three miles into the trek the Bat called a cab. Put a Powerwheels engine on a communist technology and what do you get? A lawn ornament.
Sure enough after a long layover at the Shed, the Bat got to the WSOP-C event a little late, and the Bat spies only a ladies event running and some dude playing deep into the tournament. Taking a pulse of the crowd the Bat learns it’s Kai Landry. This guy used to blog on http://www.gulfcoastpoker.net, and reading his thoughts on that site, was a bit like taking an Ambien,slugging ten fingers of Jimmy Beam, and staring at a lava lamp until it spelled out spiritual advice… or in other words an average Tuesday for the Poker Bat.
So seeing a kindred spirit, the Bat railed Kai from a spot just behind the curtains, just behind the people hawking card protectors. “No, the Bat doesn’t want to buy your table frisbees unless they come with Jessica Simpson from the Dukes of Hazard movie and I don’t have to keep the disc.”
From his poker blind, the Bat watched Kai magnificently wade through that minefield of Q10 loving princesses and get to heads up action. Heads up action in a ladies tournament… creepy smile, creepy wink, creepy nudge (somebody needs to design that emoticon). There the Bat hears some of the exiled ladies talking. One of them a brutish looking tight end for an Canadian Football League team tells the others, if Kai wins he’s not getting out of the parking lot with the pendant.
This got the Bat picking his nose, actually, the Bat was already knuckle deep, this got the Bat thinking, about poor Kai getting jumped in the parking lot. So taking stock of the future mob, the Bat envisioned the scene if he won:
Kai exits the elevator, with the Ted Nugent muzak fading away as he walks into the IP garage, a car skids out in the distance, but this floor of the garage is empty except for Kai’s car (a vintage Aston Matin) parked by itself overlooking the beauty of the bay of biloxi. As Kai, walks sipping from his shaken not stirred victory martini, the lone light above his car flickers rapidly and turns off, turning the garage to shadow. Dripping water echoes loudly and Kai can’t help but shake the idea he’s being watched.
As he nears his car, thumbing the pearly brilliance of his treasured pendant, thinking expectantly about digging into his dinner of fried chicken and wine in a bubble bath,
suddenly shadows drop silently from the ceiling. He sees them spill to the floor as graceful as mash potatoes sliding off a spoon. As they dust themselves off, he recognizes them as a group of big stacked poker ninjas, they stand between him and around his car.
One of them, Nancy “Right Eye” Lopez steps out the darkness. Her visor, football coach shorts, and industrial strength tube socks means one of two things, she’s either late for an tee time or in short order Kai would be lunch meat.
Next to Right-Eye, another vanquished opponent emerged. This one, “Babe” Zaharis, who busted standing up to his stealing by calling off with King 4 off suit. Babe, wearing her shiny L.I.P.S poker tour jacket she wears to every poker event, a female version of Captain Tom speaks first, “Give us the pendant and we’ll let you walk.”
Kai, “Huh, what? This, you want this…” Kai looked at his precious. Sure, the costume jewelry that didn’t exactly match his eyes but the value was in the significance of it. Like Hercules defeating the Amazons, or his hero Abraham Korotki’s seminal Jackie Robinson moment in Atlantic City, the pendant symbolized a victory over woman kind. Too many times, man had suffered at the poker table at the carefully manicured hands of women. Their transgressions too many to count, but including Tiffany Michelle’s 5 seconds of relevancy where she slurped nacho cheese off her fingers after fondling chips, their uniquely female “passive aggressive” playing style (keep calling with the worst of it until you get there), the siren call of their low cut tops across the tables bludgeoning the logical portions of male brains into mush, or just one story too many about the brilliance of Vanessa Selbst. Kai knew his victory was bigger then a pendant.
As he mustered up the courage to stand up to these woman, an even larger henchwoman stepped out from the shadows, he recognized her at once as body builder Paula “Poundstone” Creamer, she hissed, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way breeder.”
Kai shrugged, “Usually when I wrestle with a gang of women there’s more of you and a pile of pillows.” They ignored his wink. He slugged the rest of his martini and gathered his nerve. The odds were against him, but this was a man who had also broken into the female stranglehold on the jello wrestling industry, so he knew how to defend himself from their feminine wiles. Afterall he wasn’t called the Violent Milkman for nothing, “Let’s do… this!” he yelled.
Despite his bravado, it’s one thing to battle a bikini model in green jello in a high school gym, it’s another thing to fight the bloodlust of a passel of angry female poker players. Kai barely took a step, before the card protectors took flight and pounded him about the face like throwing stars. As they clinked to the ground he saw the dolphins, hearts, and pink horseshoes that were de facto symbols of the gender he debased and he knew this was going to hurt.
At that moment, the light flickered back on, a cat shrieked in a stairwell, and he saw the hordes and hordes of angry estrogen warriors rushing him like he was a dollar shoe rack at Jimmy Chu’s. A flurry of purses, and knock off pink Beats headphones battered him across the head and brave Kai fell to a knee. He thumbed a droplet of blood from his mouth, and looked at the ladies saying, “Is that all you got?”
As they stared him down, he saw a famous face, “Kathy… Liebert?”
She tucked her 2005 Shooting Stars bounty shirt back into her shorts and pulled out a flip phone from her fanny pack, “That’s right I got the call.”
Then out stepped, Jennifer Harman, Victoria Coren, Mimi Tran, and Jennifer Tilly to stand shoulder to shoulder with Liebert, “We all did.”
Harman pulled out a pineapple from her mom jeans, gently tossing it back and forth from hand to hand, “Ladies… who wants a Pina Colon-ado?”
The harpies screamed their approval.
A shrill voice from the group then cried out, “No, let’s give him the full Negreanu!”
Harman shook her head, “An…” but before she could finish, that craven cavalcade of women let out a collective shriek, and just like that the onslaught began anew, a melee of bingo-winged women went airborne, their biggest, Condaleza Hippolite, landed first and Kai went to ground like a Rollo hitting an Almarillo sidewalk. He hung on bravely clutching that pendant til all but his last moment of consciousness escaped him while they pulled at his hair and scratched at his clothes. One of the last sights he saw, a sweaty tramp stamp bordered by roses , “Say, Yes When Nobody Asks.” For a moment, he ignored the beating he was taking, to think to himself “What da fuck. Who Da Fuck.”
As finally he blacked out under a haze of musky scents straight out of bowling alley ladies room, they wrested the pendant from him. The group now almost sated they turned and left. Within moments, a dazed Kai woke up and somehow pulled himself to his feet but his recovery didn’t go unnoticed. The smallest, loudest, and least toughest of the bunch Kerri Simmons-Webb ran back for one more swift kick to the nuts.
Kai spun to the ground in agony.
“Next time take your balls and go home,” she taunted.
Fortunately for Kai, he came in second and this didn’t happen.
**The PokerBat promised you the tale of why he semi-retired and almost lost his life, but alas ,space was limited so he didn’t. Next time. Same Bat Channel. As for you Miley Cyrus fans sorry to disappoint you, but there are no pictures of her nude with three nipples here either. But get used to the disappointment, you are a Miley Cyrus fan, even at a young age your poor decision making prefaces a lifetime of worse ones, enjoy your facial tattoes, your bad salvia trips, and your grocery list of boyfriends that need saving but not marrying.