Cribbage With The Former

While playing cribbage with our former commander and chief, I lost. He ended the game before I could count the cards….without cheating…according to him.

Two plus two is not four, but seventeen, according to the foolish man trying to run our Country.

I was honest and counted his cards for him. When he reminded me the game was already over, I was baffled. He had placed his peg in the winning hole and said, “I won.” I said to him, “You know you’re delusional, right?” Upon telling me he didn’t know what that word meant, he went on spewing abnormal lies I couldn’t accept, but I did listen. I just, for obvious purposes, didn’t believe one word coming out of his orange pie hole. Almost feeling sorry for him, I said said, “Let’s play again.” He replied with, ” Ok Fred.” He thought he was playing cards with Frederick Douglas…..a man Trump believes to still be alive and doing great things.

You want to feel sorry for him until he cheats at cards and makes fun of race, creed and culture. Then, you just want to smash him in the face with the Irish wand of truth. Since that wand exists as much as Frederick Douglass, my sympathy level is not low. It’s on empty.

Returning to the game, I knew the truth was something which didn’t exist on his side. I was intrigued with this poor, sad, well dressed pooched lipped evil soul.

The next game didn’t end in a tie, according to him. Skunking him, I won in a card landslide. He wanted a recount. Sadly, he couldn’t count his own cards.

Always carrying a straight jacket handy in our living room, he was carted away, kicking and screaming wearing a silly red hat. After I placed the hat on his head, he screamed, “I’m Santa Clause, you asshole!”

Strange dream. Prophetic?

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