Pool_1

"Hey, don't get spit in the spaghetti. I am NOT a born cheater! It took years of practice. I've got scars all over my body from cheating done badly. I perfected my game. I don't believe in chance. We are not just what we are born but also what we make of ourselves. Besides, why should my game suffer to some one else's shuffle?" "You're not supposed to gamble!" Aldo addressed the table as if it were the jury. "Exactly!" Joe rebutted with a big broad smile, "If I cheat, I'm not gambling." Little Marcus piped in, "Father Joe, can you show me how to cheat?" "Oh no you don't!" Momma interrupted, "Don't you dare, Joe. Don't you dare." Chuck, referring to Joe's secret card stash and Marcus's small size, stuttered to Aldo, "Ain't g-got a b-big enough c-crack in his ass anyhow," as Sissy nearly spit a spaghetti strand across the table. "Don't blow my secrets," Joe whispered, as Momma made a mock serious face, "Watch it!" The four children did their best to help financially. Sissy, the eldest, was a skilled artist whose drawings and tapestries showed a very curious brooding and eeriness. Her drawings sold. The three boys? It was less clear. Their natures were so dissimilar. But youth is youth. Snow meant shoveling driveways for cash. Summer meant mowing lawns, except for Marcus, the youngest. He could never do that. He was a strong kid, but fresh cut grass brought on severe asthma. He also sustained spells of paroxysmal sneezing that could last days. His brothers called it 'whooping snot' or moaned 'put a cork in it'. Marcus, perhaps weakened from all the allergies, or more likely due to the restrictions that certain allergies placed on immunizations, nearly succumbed to diphtheria at the age of five. Penicillin was known, but was simply not available. It was