This is one of my favorite, albeit incredibly disgusting and disturbing stories from when I was a poker dealer in the “Ohio Charity Gaming” scene. If you didn’t get a chance to read the first and second volumes, it’s a good idea to start with those because I am too lazy to explain all the background stuff every time I tell a new story.

On with the show… Now, I should probably tell you that I did not actually witness the events that follow, but they were told to me by several of the other dealers and I tend to believe everything I hear. Especially when it comes from a guy that makes his living splitting time between dealing poker and making egg mcmuffins. After hearing it, I rather wish that I’d not heard it in the first place and also that I’d never been born.

The story centers around one of the “regulars,” a 40ish woman everyone calls “KJ.” KJ usually comes to the “casino nights” with her pseudo-boyfriend Mike as always and always ends up complaining a lot and just being generally bitchy. A lot of times I just wanted to reach across the table and smack the three teeth she had left right out of her mouth, but I decided not to cause I didn't want to cut my hand. Her boyfriend wasn’t much better, and he thought he was God’s gift to the white-trash world, strutting around the VFW’s like owned the place. Which he probably did.

As it turns out, Mike was not KJ’s first love interest in the charity gaming circle. She had been with at least two other regular players, which always made for some tense games while I was around. All parties involved refused to just "not go" to the one place in the whole world that they would have a chance of seeing their top three most hated people. This just goes to show how sad these people’s lives are… they can’t live without their weekly fix of playing low-limit poker with a bunch of the seediest characters you’ll ever meet, in cigarette-saturated rooms that probably would have set off the smoke detectors… if there were any.

But even before uber-losers #1, 2 & 3, KJ had another love interest. This man was at least 60 years old. Like Sid on Big Daddy, his five-year plan was “don’t die.” Well, let’s just say sometimes things don’t work out according to plan.

The story goes like this: during another quality date that consisted of going to casino nights together for the 99^th straight weekend, the happy couple decided to sneak out and “fool around” in their car in the parking lot. The fooling around led to KJ going down on her “Golden Buckeye,” and… man this is gross… she must’ve done such a good job that the man was overcome with ecstasy, had a massive heart attack and DIED. So he’s dead. Thus, KJ was branded with the all-too-poignant nickname: "Killer Head" for the rest of eternity. The End.

p.s. – I don’t think she ever got in trouble for that. I’m not sure the penal system has ever had to deal with that kind of situation. If you ask me, this blowjob story blows Bill Clinton and Hugh Grant’s away. (pun intended in each of those last two sentences, btw). It’s stories like these that make me question my faith in human existence. It also makes me question why I decided to spend more than 15 seconds of my time working in these tardfests. It also makes me question whether it was ethical to accept their food stamps as tips. I made that last part up.

Word of the Day