Nunzio and me got fascinated by dis game whilst everyone was tryin' to teach it to the Boss in time for his big match with the Sen-Sen Ante Kid, and it isn't really all that hard ... providin' one had a copy of the rules applicable to the dimension youse is in at the time. (Of course, the Boss couldn't use a book durin' the big match, as he was supposed to be an expert already.) Before leavin' the Bazaar for this particular caper, both Nunzio and me included pickin' up copies of the rulebook for Klah (our home dimension where dis narration is takin' place) as part of our preparations. If youse perhaps think that buying two copies of the rulebook is a needless expense, let me give youse a free tip about playin' Dragon Poker: Your best defense at the table is havin' your own copy of the rules. Youse see, one of the standin' rules in any Dragon Poker game is that the players are individually responsible for knowin' the Conditional Modifiers. Put simply, this means that if you don't know a particular modifier which would turn your nothin' hand into a winner, no one is obligated to announce it to you. This is a tradition of the game and has nothin' to do with the honesty of them what plays it. If anything, it avoids accusations that a player deliberately withheld information to win a hand rather than a particular modifier simply bein' overlooked amidst the multitude of modifiers in effect at any given time. In short, as much as I trust my cousin Nunzio to cover my back in a brawl, I feel it wisest not to count on him lookin' out for my interest at a Dragon Poker table, and therefore figure havin' my own copy of the rulebook is a necessary expense, not a luxury or convenience.

"Let's see," I sez, thumbin' through the book, "the sun is out ... and we're playin' indoors ..."

"... and there's an odd number of players ..." Spyder supplies, showin' she's gettin' the hang of the modifyin' factors.

"... and one of them is female ... sort of ..." Junebug adds, winkin' at Spyder.

"Sorry to take so long with your drinks, my friends," the proprietor sez, announcin' his presence as he arrives back at the table with a tray of potables. "Now, who has the ... HEY! WHAT IS THIS???!!!"

It suddenly occurs to me that there may be some local ordinance against gamblin' ... which would explain why the proprietor is suddenly so upset.

"This?" I sez, innocent-like. "Oh, we're just havin' a friendly little game of cards here. Don't worry, we're just usin' the coins to keep score and ..."

"Don't give me that!" our host snarls, with no trace of his earlier greasy friendliness. "That's Dragon Poker you're playing! No one plays that game unless ..."

He breaks off sudden-like and starts givin' each of us the hairy eyeball.

"All right, which one of you is a demon? Or is it all of you? Never mind! I want you all out of here ... RIGHT NOW!!!"

Chapter Eight:

"It takes one to know one!"

-JACK D. RIPPER

TO SAY THE proprietor's accusation caused a stir at our table is like sayin' it would cause raised eyebrows to have Don Bruce as the guest speaker at a Policeman's Banquet. Unfortuitously, everyone had different questions to ask.

"What's he mean 'demon'?" Spyder demanded.

I started to answer her, as I knew from my work with the Boss that a demon is the commonly accepted term for a dimension traveler, but there was too much cross-talk for rational-type conversation.

"Are we supposed to leave?" Spellin' Bee sez, scared-like as he peered at the retreatin' figure.

"What's wrong with Dragon Poker?" Shu Flie put in.

"Nothin'!" I sez to him. "You see, Spyder ..."

"Then what put the burr under his saddle?" Shu pressed, startin' to get under my skin.

Fortunately, in trainin' I have discovered there is one way to shut this particular individual up when he gets on a roll.

"Shu Flie," I sez, "don't bother me."

It was an old joke by this time, but it still got a laugh ... which is not surprisin' as I have found that the vast majority of army humor pivots on old jokes.

"Watch yourself, brother," Hy Flie sez, pokin' Shu in the ribs. "The Swatter there is lookin' to squash a fly again ... and he might not be too picky about which of us he swats."

Under the cover of this new round of laughs, Nunzio leans forward to talk to me direct. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, cuz?"

"That, of course, depends upon what it is you are thinkin', Nunzio," I sez, reasonable-like. "If, perchance, you are thinkin' that you can color our cover 'blown,' then we are, indeed, thinkin' along the same lines,"

To my surprise, instead of agreein' he rolls his eyes like he does when I'm missin' something which to him is obvious.

"Think it through, Guido," he sez. "He thinks we're from off-dimension, because we know about Dragon Poker ... right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So how does he know about it?" To me, this question is as trivial as wonderin' how a cop happens to know about a particular ordinance ... which is to say it is beside the point, totally overlookin' the immediate dilemma of dealin' with the aftermath of us gettin' caught breakin' it.

"I dunno. I guess someone showed it to him. So what?"

For some reason, this seems to get Nunzio even more upset.

"Guido," he sez, clenchin' his teeth, "sometimes I wonder if all those knocks on the head you've taken have ... oops! He's coming back. Quick ... Bee?"

"Yes, Nunzio?" our junior magician sez, blinkin' with surprise at havin' been suddenly included in our discussion.

"Get your Dis-spell ready, and when I give you the nod ... throw it on the proprietor."

"The proprietor? Why?"

"Bee ... just do it. Okay?" I interrupts, havin' learned from experience that the only thing that takes longer than listenin' to one of Nunzio's lectures is tryin' to pry a straight answer out of him when he's tryin' to let you discover the point yourself.

Bee starts to say somethin', then shuts his mouth, shrugs, startin' to mumble and mutter like he does when he's gettin' ready to use magik.

The others at the table look at Nunzio expectantlike, but he just leans back in his chair lookin' confident and smug. I, of course, imitate his action, though I have no more idea what he is about to pull than the rest of the crew. You see, past experience has taught me that one of the best times to act confident is when youse is totally in the dark ... but would just as soon no one else is aware of your ignorance.

"Are you still here?" the proprietor demands, materializin' beside our table again. "I don't want to have to tell you again! Now get out before I call the cops!"

"I don't think so," Nunzio sez, starin' at the ceilin'.

"WHAT??!!"

"... In fact, I was thinkin' we might want to make your place our home away from home ... If you know what I mean."

"Izzat so?! Think just 'cause you're in the Army you can do anything you want, do you? Well, let me tell you something, soldier-boy. I happen to be a tax paying member of this community in good standing with the authorities, and soldiers or not they don't take too kindly to demons in these parts. In fact, I can't think of one good reason why I shouldn't call the police right now and have them drag you all right out of here!"

"I can," Nunzio smiles, and nods at Bee.

At the cue, Spellin' Bee squares his shoulders, purses his lips, and lets fly with his Dis-Spell, and ...

"What the ..."

"MY GOD!!!"

"Lookit ..."

The reason for this outpourin' of surprise and disbelief on the part of our crew is that, despite our time with them, Nunzio and me has failed to brief or otherwise prepare them for acceptin' the concept of demons ... which is what they're suddenly confronted with. That is, as soon as Bee completed his spell, there was a ripplin' in the air around the proprietor, and instead of a greasy local type, he now looked just like ...