“Deal.” Cody says, in a commanding tone to the Duke. He’s so excited to start the game of Blind Man’s Bluff he’s drooling. His enthusiasm is contagious; his anxious fidgets riling the other assembled poker players to the point the room’s become a cacophony of twitching gamblers, and howling card sharks, and for a moment, the Duke wishes the door in the kitchen had been shut for the day already when Cody had arrived. Cody’s too excitable by far, is what it is, and flicking cards toward the group assembled around the felted green table with random precision, Duke squashes his instinct to instantly retrieve them by scraping divots with his overly long nails into each released card’s patterned back. His mark, and his party, and he damn well doesn’t care what the other players think about it, either.

In seconds the players have their hands—as well as their attitudes about their hands—and Cody sniffs the air automatically, practically smelling the sweat break out on his buddy Trouble, so named due to his tendency to start fights with unsuspecting rollerbladers. Trouble has an unreasonable fear of rollerbladers, and quite possibly bad cards, too, and the Duke takes this under advisement as he licks-—nibbles, and sticks—-the very best card he has to the crown of his head. The other players follow suit, affixing the cards to their brows and heads to mimic the Indian braves for which the poker game is named.

“I’m going first.” the Duke says, grimacing a bit threateningly as he pushes chips toward the table’s center. “My house—my rules. I bet two.”

“I’ll call your tooOOOOOoooo!” Snoop Dog sing-songs. “And raise it twooOOOoo, toooOOOoooo!”

“That’s four to you, Cody.”

“I’m out.” Tiger decides, tossing his cards to the felt, face down. He demonstrates both a lack of breeding and poker etiquette by pushing away from the table, and scratching his balls with great gusto.

“Cody?”  the Duke growls, irritated he can’t join Tiger—his balls suddenly itch fearsomely, too–and put out to remind Mr. Raring-to-Go. “You want to play, Cody?”

“Do I!’ Cody rejoins, jumping from his chair, and running circles around the poker table. “Do I! Do I, do I, do I, dooOOOoo!”

“Cody!” the group barks in stereo, but the excited fellow can’t control himself. He is getting on in years, Duke thinks. Even in dog years Cody would be considered over-the-hill, and Duke wonders if it’s possible to be afflicted with hyperactivity and Old Timers simultaneously.

“Stop that this minute!” the Duke adds. The interruption is particularly upsetting; Duke’s almost positive he has the highest card stuck to his brow—-Snoop’s the only one with a picture card, and it’s just a green one—-and throwing all social nicety to the wind, he does the unthinkable.

He leashes Cody, and leads the agitated golden retriever out to the yard.

Meet the players:

The Daily Prompt: Competition