- Joined
- Jul 12, 2002
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Page 21: Blackjacked Baby.
Wandering and wanting to find some means of other entertainment, Ed stumbled into what could be called the castle's gameroom. Although the gothic architecture was intact in this part of the domain, there was a certain casino coteur breathed into this hidden hangout. Piano propped up against the far wall—an upfright player, the cover kept closed furtively securing the myriad of blacks and whites, its tinkling treasures. Standing rooted to the spot somewhat opposite was a billiard's table, rack and marked billiard balls pocketed just as hushed as the piano's keepsake keys. Our guest of honor sat down at an open chair, the games table occupying the straightaway forward portion—big enough for at least eight players to feel free either tossing dice or laying down tiles or moving between squares. Fingering the sealed deck, he wondered if it contained the requisit count of cards. "If you wish to play a game, I can help you sir," he heard behind him. "Just allow me to have my deck back," she continued, "and I think you'll be pleased with the hand I decide to deal." The last almost whispered as she did not wish to further alarm. Looking at her head on, you would believe yourself talking to a playing card. Her black suit shaded only by the wrapping of white laid over her torso. The halo of blonde expertly ringing the softened beige Muppetlike face, she was more noticeably noted by the big "A" upon her upper right chest and the matching spade born on her belly. But her face might convince you that this living paper-piece, this Ace of Spades was somewhat Muppet in origin. Softly placing a marbled 21 above the sealed stash, she proceeded to hand out Mr. Castle card after card—guiding his hand in aid to his blind eyes, not minding the stamped storm cloud consulting his next move, nor her swishing pumpkin ribbon assenting which card he should forfeit.
Page 21: Blackjacked Baby.
Wandering and wanting to find some means of other entertainment, Ed stumbled into what could be called the castle's gameroom. Although the gothic architecture was intact in this part of the domain, there was a certain casino coteur breathed into this hidden hangout. Piano propped up against the far wall—an upfright player, the cover kept closed furtively securing the myriad of blacks and whites, its tinkling treasures. Standing rooted to the spot somewhat opposite was a billiard's table, rack and marked billiard balls pocketed just as hushed as the piano's keepsake keys. Our guest of honor sat down at an open chair, the games table occupying the straightaway forward portion—big enough for at least eight players to feel free either tossing dice or laying down tiles or moving between squares. Fingering the sealed deck, he wondered if it contained the requisit count of cards. "If you wish to play a game, I can help you sir," he heard behind him. "Just allow me to have my deck back," she continued, "and I think you'll be pleased with the hand I decide to deal." The last almost whispered as she did not wish to further alarm. Looking at her head on, you would believe yourself talking to a playing card. Her black suit shaded only by the wrapping of white laid over her torso. The halo of blonde expertly ringing the softened beige Muppetlike face, she was more noticeably noted by the big "A" upon her upper right chest and the matching spade born on her belly. But her face might convince you that this living paper-piece, this Ace of Spades was somewhat Muppet in origin. Softly placing a marbled 21 above the sealed stash, she proceeded to hand out Mr. Castle card after card—guiding his hand in aid to his blind eyes, not minding the stamped storm cloud consulting his next move, nor her swishing pumpkin ribbon assenting which card he should forfeit.