Tango has been sitting on the sidelines instead of dancing every dance. The culprit? The Screenplay. My brain is intrinsically merged to the fibers in the story line of the screenplay. It’s finished. Ahhhh but that means it’s rewrite time and that’s where I’m at. I’ve received great input from a few friends and I’m ready to carve out a masterpiece but a break is needed and it’s time to Tango.

Precious came into the 6s of a $30-$60 Holdem game I was dealing on Thursday night. He was already seated in a chair and Andy, one of our Chip Runners, was pushing the chair in front of him (as if it had wheels) and pushed Precious up to the table. It’s hard to tell where Andy started with the chair but Precious kept a continually running, demanding string of orders so Andy would know what to do…like don’t breathe unless Precious says you can. “Stop here!” “Now wait a minute.” “Help me take my jacket off….let it drop straight down. I have arthritis in my shoulders.”

Andy had a smile and the patience of God; he did exactly as Precious asked him to do and Precious just kept barking at him. Andy finally got Precious settled and went to get chips for him.

Precious was between the Button and the Small Blind and I asked if he wanted to be dealt in. As if I were sock lint between the toes he hasn’t seen in a few years, he barked, “I’ll let you know when!”

He got his chips, not sure if he even told Andy thank you, and the Button passed him. He had his chips arranged and I knew if I dealt him out, he’d have a cow and a steer so I looked at the 7s and mouthed, “Ask him if he wants to post.”

The 7s complied and sure enough, Precious posted. I just didn’t want to have him bark at me again.

Precious informed me that he was 87 and couldn’t see and couldn’t hear and just loved to play poker, in between little barbs and jabs at everything else. He kept giving me a goofy toothless smile and I smiled back at him each time.

A note on Precious: I’ve dealt to him for over 16 years. It’s a bitch. He’s always got a sarcastic reply and a complaint about everything and no one else can say anything because the Great Precious interrupts them and tries to make them feel like they left home without packing any brainfood.

He slows down the whole game…on purpose. He’s a showboater and wants everyone to know he’s there and part of the action.

Unfortunately he has gotten OLD! He keeps his teeth in his pocket most of the time. He has selective hearing. He can’t see so a dealer either has to push the Board cards directly in front of him or read them to him. He’s pretty much a stiff and likes to give a jab and stab at how bad the dealer is whenever he loses a hand.

He can’t get in and out of a chair so someone (I even did it one time) has to grab the back of his pants and lift him up or balance him on the way down and, believe it or not, he still thinks he’s a F-O-X!

Nope, this isn’t meant to be negative. He’s at a spot in his life that all of us will reach if we live long enough. It’s just damn painful to be around him.

He bit my head off a few times and then when something came up, he asked me what happened. I replied, “At the risk of getting my head bit off for the 100th time in the last 14 years…”

He interrupted me of course.

A few minutes later he tried to be charming and asked, “So I’ve been a little hard on you before, huh?”

I just smiled. He smiled back. The rest of the table played poker, Precious wanted to play THE GAME.

I escaped. I didn’t get far because all the people that I write about are like a revolving door. There’s always an encounter with them that seems to be trapped in a time warp…repeat…blip…repeat…blip…

Marty C., Israeli Mike, Cuckoo, George P., Sam G., it just happens over and over again.

I’d better sit out this next dance and get on that screenplay or I could be stuck in the time warp the rest of my life…ouch!