The Housing Authority Gameplayers


The Housing Authority Gameplayers    

 

Four men sitting at a table playing Spades.  In any other setting, someone would have called them as they saw them.  Broken and at the end of their rope, the gossip begins.  Anything to get a laugh from each other.  No filter is desired or required at the table.  It was all about outdoing the other team.  And, when the opposing team gets outplayed, there is a balance of shame and glee.  Save one excusing himself to hit the head, the Alpha gets to chose his prey.  Everybody joins in to add their two cents.

Each person had hung around long enough to get to know the others pretty well.  Yet, there’s always that one they all want some dirt on.  Rumors.  What one heard as well as the others, chimes and rings loudly until the return of the prey.  It’s business as usual until the humiliation rises.  It is almost impossible to stop the prey from securing his place in history.  They will never be able to explain their demise except being taken down by a lesser.  If only they would really look at themselves before exiting their domiciles, each would see the flaws they have denied.  Prim, Proper, like a UFO landed with skills beyond their wildest imagination, he feels he is the topic of quiet.  Maybe one would try and sneak in a question about where he came from or what did he do as living before ending up in this place.  The prey knows he is being played to expose his weaknesses.  That’s when the shit gets real.  Every innuendo, every mannerism is exhibited out of fun.  Yet, they have no idea they are the ones getting played.

His luck doesn’t run out.  One by One they all fall down.  The King of the moment all of a sudden subtly reminds the derelicts of how they were beaten.  Now, he can talk as much smack as he can and want to.  He knows he’s good and the cards are always in his favor.  What happened before they walked out of the house?  Did they pray to some higher force to be victorious?  Or, did they want to use different cards to shake up the energy at the table?  Either way, they should have done the right thing:  See it as a game of trash talk and nothing more.  He lets on about the conversation he overheard of them.  Maybe, he shouldn’t have.  With heads held low, My partner and I could only revel in their demise for once being considered the Two Kings.  Will wearing a Burger King crown at each game be ultimately the last straw for comraderie?  Besides, they started the gathering only to be separated by sheer luck and skill from the other side.

At least two egos will be smashed at the game that is like a scheduled ritual…a must for this niche.  At certain times, newbies will appear, seeking a playing partner.  That is how the cycle begins.

By the second appearance, the newcomers have acclimated and adapted to the behaviors of old, Black Men who are looking to expand their egos.  After the loss, the newcomers are told to get more training and come on back.