Curley Cues

(1)
Curley Cues the best damn pool hall there ever was, no the floors weren’t clean and yea there was usually a drunk fight every night but this place was so much more than just any old pool hall it’s also the place I met my wife, Deidra a dark haired sex machine that rocked my world but things change she traded in her tight black spandex and red high heels for sweat pants and two kids as for me sure I gave her the kids and helped her grow up but I still held on hard to my pool cue and the life style. Back in the day there’s me twenty two years old hair down to my ass and blue jeans so snug it’s amazing all together I could even lean over and strike that little white ball. I was good then real good I don’t mean to brag at all but I was I think that’s what attracted Deidra to me she was the pool hall hottie and I was the hot young guy pocketing everyone’s money life was good then, real good. Here’s me fifteen years later still cracking balls in the same pool hall right next to the very same bartender and wall paper except one things different I’ve been practicing along time and I’ll tell you something I’m a lot better now than I was then.

A big neon sign hangs over head Curley Cues glowing red with a big blue eight ball underneath. The windows are all blacked out just a steel door dividing this world from theirs and it was a different world behind those doors no worries no cares and all the friends a guy needs. I step in immediately the air changes the smell of freshly poured beer and good company fills my nostrils, the pictures on the walls hang and forever I am sure they will hang one of the pictures displays a French woman dressed erotically with eyes peering back at you saying come on big boy come and get me and next to it is the classic dogs playing poker silly but somehow reflects the proper atmosphere. Scotty the barkeep already has a cold one waiting for me. I slap a fifty down on the counter that should last me all night and curl my hand around the glass, friends and fellow pool players greet me as I make my way over to my favourite table number four clean as a whistle and hardly any cuts in the green cloth.

"How’s it hanging Eighties?"

Eighties that’s a good laugh, a nick name I’ve been dubbed considering the way I dress and for how long I have been coming here it fits pretty damn perfect.

"Not bad Nick, want to shoot a game or did I wipe your ass clean of your allowance last night" I laughed

Nicks a good kid, baseball hat always worn backwards blue jeans and a sweater with a few of his buddies tagging along behind him.

"Yea right old man you rack them up and I’ll knock them down how much you want to lose today Eighties" the younger less talented me taunts back

The smack talk is half the fun of the game behind our words we are both laughing.

"Fifty hard cash I comically slam it on the edge of the pool table" laughing because I know what’s next.

"You’re fucking crazy! How about five hard cash" Nick does the same and slams it on the table laughing.

"Sounds good to me I could use the warm up"

(2)
I rack up the balls and let the kid break the pile and we casually start moving through the game. Generally with the younger kids I play laid back missing a few shots to keep it interesting seeing in how we rarely play for big bucks unless their piss drunk and want to impress some chick. I spit a few cocky remarks at him and he flings them right back all the while sipping my beer soaking up the fun. I slam the last few balls away ending the game and feeling almost guilty stealing the kids money but hey that’s the game if you don’t like it don’t play. I don’t want you to get me all wrong sure I missed a few shots to keep the game interesting but I am far from a hustler I play hard most of the time and never disguise how good I am. The Curley Cues phone starts ringing behind the counter Scotty shoots me a look saying you know it’s for you buddy so get up here and answer it. I leave the table giving my favourite red headed French pinup painting a sly glance. I steal the phone out of Scotties hands.

"Hello"

"Don’t hello me; you know damn well whose calling!"

"Hi sweetie I just stopped in to shoot a few games I’ll be home soon" I say holding back Knowing if I speak my true opinion how it’s none of her damn business if I want to shoot a few games with the boys.

"You said you were going to get milk and eggs, that was three hours ago when the fuck are you coming home?"

"Not for a while, I’ll call you later ok?"

The phone hangs dead leaving my question answerless. I hand the phone back to Scotty and get a refill on my beer; I’m in shit now I might as well enjoy the rest of the night. I head back to table four, Nicks long gone and the pool hall is filling up with new and old faces. I hang back next to my table sipping ever so casually from my frosted mug. I get a few games going but nothing serious five bucks here and there. The problem with frequenting the same pool hall is people get to know you they get to know how good I am and tend to avoid me. The crowd begins parading around the room, young men impressing their girlfriends, girlfriends sitting back on the high bar stools cross legged and gossiping to one another all the while the old men on table six glance now and then hoping to get a up the skirt preview but they rarely do succeed. Now late into the afternoon the beers are flowing and Scotty has turned on a few of the neon beer signs some newer then others the older ones tend to flicker like bug zappers. The Mood is upbeat tonight people are happy I’m happy I only wish there were some real pool players in here someone to challenge me someone not afraid to string a few balls together little did I know someone was listing to my cry for a challenger.

(3)
I left Curley Cues late that night; I snuck in and crashed on the couch hoping if I set my alarm early enough I could get out of here and back to the pool hall before Deidra wakes up and beats me into a coma and I did. I pull up to Curley Cues its early morning and something seems very different, Scotties car isn’t out front but the place is clearly open. I get out of the car to take a closer look. I cup both hands to the window to peer inside but the glass was well tinted the only way to fulfill my suspicions was to enter and see for myself. I grab hold of the steel bars on the door and give it a gentle shove open and step inside. What I found inside boggles the mind I found inside a story you keep to yourself and only to yourself I found what can only be described as Curley Cues on a bad acid trip. I step inside knowing what I see but I can hardly stop my feet from entering. The walls were no longer the peaceful orange but were covered with the deepest darkest black wall paper so dark the corners of the pool hall were nonexistent, the dog who were once playing poker now are diseased and foaming at the mouth dripping slobber down their cards and on their poker chips. I glance at the French maiden now leaning back on a chair with her shirt wide open exposing a deep gash from her throat to the belly button no longer seducing me to come get her but to save her from this place. The pool tables no longer are draped in torn green clothe but replaced with red on a black oak wood frame.

"Eighties, your right on time here’s a beer on the house, your moneys no good here"

I hear this out of the left of my ear I turn to reply but nothing comes out I only stare and give my eyes a rub.

"What’s wrong bud never seen a skeleton before?" he laughs clack* clack* clack* his teeth smack together; his elbows grind against his ribs while he slams his other hand on the counter.

"Grab your beer, he will be here soon, table four is free your favourite table right?" he stares at me with his black sockets not clacking his teeth no more only looking at me.

"Yea.....thanks"

I snatch my beer off of the counter trying not to get to close to him and turn towards my table. The others in here are just the same but very alive despite their appearance, a pair shoots pool in the back tilting their heads to the side and back showing expressions to good and bad shots. I can hear the jukebox screaming in the background Five Feet High and Rising by Johnny Cash, in the corner a group dances smacking bones now and then laughing clack* clack* clacking* their teeth, smacking each other on the back. I find table four white knuckling griping my beer the whole way keeping eyes on all in the room oddly it seems they barley even notice I’m here. I rack up the balls trying to keep my cool the last thing I need is to attract attention to myself, why don’t I just leave what the hell am I doing here, easier said than done something tells me I would never make it out of here. I break the balls up and string a few together starting to relax a bit, I line up a shot but before I could let it go a cold boney hand is placed on my shoulder. I spin around knocking my beer on the ground eyes and mouth wide open.

"Relax I only wish to talk, names Samson"

I look him up and down, bare bones with an exception a couple rings line his fingers

"I see you noticed my championship rings six in total, I was unstoppable that is until I made a deal, a deal with the devil"

Both his hands grab hold of my shoulders his breath smells of cigarettes and rancid meat I try to shrug him off but his grip is firm.

"You made a wish Eighties and guess what it’s about to come true!" his hands squeeze tighter sucking the air out of me I throw both hands up and shove him off me.

(4)
Standing face to face with the dead reanimated, do I hit him or do I run for the hills and never look back but before I can react I hear the main door swing open clear as day as if it were the only sound in Curley Cues. I know this is whom I am supposed to meet the one they talk of. He enters the room but not of skeleton proportion but of skin with no colour eyes locked on me the entire way. Black suit with blood red under shirt a bowler’s hat sits upon his head, arms so long they almost touch the ground dragging behind him a long skinny black case. He reaches me and touches me on the chest with cold fingers I look into his eyes and see fire, black fire.

"O you wish you wish upon a star and now look where you are"

"What the fuck are you talking about, I didn’t wish for this!"

"O but you did you did, you are the best pool hand of all the land you think, care to place a bet you might regret?"

"What are you talking about, who are you?" I begin to be more intrigued as the conversation wears on.

"I am the granter of selfish wishes and around you the men that surround you are those who lost their bet and are now in dept"

"So what your saying is if I lose a game of pool against you I become one of them and if I win then what?"

"One wish, one wish granted from me to set you free"

"Anything and anyone I want?" I asked almost getting excited a little bit.

"Yes indeed, what do you say Eighties squeal or deal?"

I thought about it for a moment looking around the room at the soulless figures dancing and waving into the air slapping each other on the back clacking* their teeth.

"I think we got a deal, you rack them up and ill break"

The Devil or what I presume is The Devil sets his long black case down and pops the clips up and opens the case. Two pieces come out, pieces of a pool cue all black and chrome the most unique and daring contraption I have ever seen. He screws them together and gives the top a flick of the finger and smiles an evil grin. I pull a cue of the wall rack behind me sure they aren’t as nice but they have never steered me wrong and I’m not about to change routine this late in the game. The balls are all racked up and I line up to break, I smack the cue ball hand sending the rest flying every which way sinking a solid five. The game was fast paced quick and hard trapping each other playing as dirty as we can and yes we smack talked but there was no good humour behind it. The game was coming to a close only one ball remains the eight ball, the one thing "`The Devil" did not take into account I have been coming here a long time I know this place like the back of my hand and I have trapped his shot in more ways than one. He lines his shot up smiling again knowing it’s an easy shot straight into the hole and all was done for, he smacks it hard but something went wrong his cue hit the wall behind him sending his ball on a path of self destruction. The cue ball spins out of control banking off each wall colliding off the eight ball and sinking himself and his fate, looks like Eighties wins again.

"The Devil" stands silent; this is most likely a rarity, not sure of what to say or even how to express himself.

"Well played, well played I am no sore loser a single wish for you to use what will it be the wish that sets you free?"

"A phone call"

"A phone call?" he repeats back to me almost unsure of what it even means.

"Yes that’s all I want is a phone call you prick now give it to me!"

He drops a cell phone into my hand.

"One call and only one call"

I flip open the phone and punch in ten digits and it begins to ring and ring again and then a third time and on the fourth ring Deidra picks up.

"Hi honey, just phoning to let you know I love you and I’m on my way home"