I wear a ring
I wear a ring on the index finger of my right hand. It's made from fine white gold and is square on the top. There are four boxes representing the four levels; survival, beliefs, sex, and at the peak a diamond representing how we are all united as one as brothers. At least that's what the jabber-jawed meth freak told me as akaloid sweat poured from him to the poker table. I told him that'd cover it. Tony the nail salon owner threw in his sweet smith and Wesson .357 Magnum. It was heavy and black with a polished oak grip the barrel vented for accuracy. The last card, I had a royal flush. The second royal flush in a lifetime.
The first time as a child sitting around the table while my father and grandmothers boyfriend drank beer and smoked. The bet was a dollar as high as it had ever been and I had drawn four. Being new to the game of poker as a eight year old I didn't recognize the royal flush and folded my hand, my step father looked at my cards and laughed and said. "don't you know that you had a royal flush" as he raked in the pot of three bucks on his measly pair.
This time I knew what I had. The streak of a lifetime; I walked away with $16,000 cash, a .357 magnum, and a sweet sweet ring that's on my finger as I type this. Don't worry my ex-wife has the pistol.