Volume 2 in Robertcat’s poker-dealing saga is actually a prequel to Vol. 1. In case you missed the first installment, Red Chip Diaries is a new series of stories that chronicle my foray into the seedy Columbus, OH “charity” poker scene as a professional dealer. My buddy Lupus and I witnessed some of the most unbelievable and sometimes nauseating events during our 3-4 month stint working for “Ohio Charity Gaming, (OCG).” It’s best to read Volume 1 first so you can get the background info.

Our story starts with the young protagonists and a trip to Columbus, centered around one of OCG’s “major” Texas Hold-em poker tournaments. I considered myself a solid poker player, so I thought I’d enter the tournament and see what happened. So, Lupus, myself, and a few other buddies took off to the “casino” (which was actually a high school lunchroom, just to give you an idea of how shady this operation is).

The first thing we noticed when we got there (besides the stench of a bunch of 40soemthing alcoholics) was that Van Halen was blasting on the 1994 boom-box off in the corner. As it would turn out, Van Halen (NOT van Hagar) would be the backdrop for pretty much every story that ever happened at OCG. During my time dealing, I heard “Jump” enough times to make me want to “Jump” out the window, through a whole bunch of Mach 3 razorblades (complete with “moisturizing indicator lubrastrip”), into a colony of midget-warriors, who would then throw me in a swimming pool filled with lemon juice (and random animal urine).

Alright let’s get back on track. Now. So, because OCG is just an impeccably-run organization, it seemed they were short a few dealers for the tournament and were looking for volunteers. Louis (the founder of OCG in case you were too lazy to read Vol. 1, in which case I am supremely disappointed in you) then asks my buddies if they want to help out. Most of them said no, but Lupus stepped up to the challenge. We’d played a lot of poker before at our respective houses, so he wasn’t exactly MH about dealing, but he’d never done it on such a stage for such a physically attractive audience. And by physically attractive I mean these guys made Randy Johnson look like a GQ model.

So, the tournament starts and Lupus begins his career as a poker dealer while I begin my career as a guy who just wants to make enough money to buy beer on the weekend for underage girls who would in turn give him sexual favors. Lupus was doing his thing and I was doing mine, and yada yada yada somehow I made the final table, which was supposed to be played the next day. I actually had to come back to this place. I honestly think this is the place you hear about when people talk about “the bottom of the gene-pool.”

Lupus had impressed Louis so much that Louis offered him a job. A job that paid 18$/hr working on the weekends for his “front company” that I’m pretty sure never existed, and in turn Lupus was to “volunteer” to deal poker for Louis’ charity events. As I write this, I’m wondering whether writing this could get us into trouble. I hope not, for these stories must be told. Just for the record, I made this paragraph up, detective (except for this sentence, it’s true I swear).

So. Lupus got a job, and I was looking to make millions depending on how I fared at the final table. As it turned out, I got 2^nd, which was good for $1,000. I was pumped, my friends were pumped, and most of all, underage girls across America were pumped (and by pumped I mean humped). I had never seen this much money at one time in my life, so the whole way home I was flashing my newly-acquired “wad” to everyone on the street. Some hobo tried to take it from me so I killed him.

This story is already too long so I’ll save some of the other parts for later. Long story short, Lupus started working the next weekend and then hooked me up w/ a job as well. Thus, the beginning of the Rob & Lupus era of poker dealing begins. Join us next time when we talk about “the cripple” or maybe “the gangsters” depending on what I feel like telling, on…. RED CHIP DIARIES.