Adventures in Solitaire
He flipped over another three. Nothing. He needed an Ace. “For the love of God!” Colfax bellowed, “Where is my precious Ace!” The empty apartment held no reply. The bothered neighbors did not understand the muffled shouts emanating from 2A.
Colfax flipped over an 8 of clubs. He envisioned the 8 on the field of battle, swinging her club. He put the 8 on the 9 of diamonds. He assigned both 8 and 9 the female gender. Lesbian sex!
“Lesbian sex!” he roared.
Below the 8 was a 5 of diamonds. He envisioned the 5 on the field of battle. You can’t fight with diamonds, so he envisioned a dagger.
“You can’t fight with diamonds!”
He made himself a sandwich. Almost out of Mayo. He laid the plate on top of the cards, which were splayed across a TV tray. He turned on the television. Larry King. He fell asleep.
Colfax dreamed of a dog he once had. A beaglish mutt named Slingshot. It was leading him out of a labyrinthine shopping mall, a dream perversion of the mall he worked at. He became separated from Slingshot. The manikins had real breasts, but were still manikins. A group of strange people were staring at him, eerily, through a window. He screamed.
Colfax woke with his hands flailing. He sat up and got his bearings. There was still a quarter sandwich on the plate on the TV tray. He ate it. He turned off the TV. He put the plate on the floor. He looked down at the cards. 5 of diamonds.
Colfax envisioned the 5 of diamonds on the field of battle, swinging an axe.
Would the adventures never end?