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Silkworm Ink

January 10, 2014

First it was one game winner takes all and then it became two out of three. Next he said even the world series is best four of seven. He keeps track in his little yellow spiral notebook but I only get to see the cover. I find it hard to believe that I’m always, well mostly always winning, and yet, after all these years I haven’t been declared the better gin player.

I told my father today that on my fortieth birthday which is coming up next month the contest is over. He got angry and called me a quitter and I reminded him how we started playing Gin King on my tenth birthday and thirty years is enough and he should just accept the fact that I am Gin King and stop being a sore loser. He walked out of my house and next I saw him he showed up on my birthday with a wrapped box.

I was glad that he wasn’t angry anymore so I gave him a hug and thanked him for the gift. Open it after the other guests leave he said and winked. Later, he, along with my wife and kids stood around and encouraged me to open my present. I did and had a sinking feeling as low as his smile was wide.
Backgammon, he said, now here’s a game. Set ‘em up, he said, and clapped his hands. He took out a new spiral notebook, blue this time.

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