FicWad

"C'mon, let's go again."

Mush winced and glanced down at the small pile of coins scattered by his knee, then back up at the short kid who had addressed him. "You sure, Race? You ain't been doin' too good."

Racetrack nodded, confident. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "My luck's just about ta kick in."

A look of concern and uncertainty flashed across Mush's face. "You got anything left to bet with?"

"I got a nickel left."

Mush sighed. "A'right. Let's get dis over wit'." He picked up the dice and shook them slowly in his cupped hands. "But just ta be fair, if you win dis round, I's throwin' in an extra penny."

"Whatever ya say, Mushy," Race grinned, slapping his nickel down dramatically on the ground. It was followed - though much more hesitantly - by Mush's six cents. The little Italian rubbed his hands together eagerly. "A'righty, snakes or deuces, bum out."

Mush stopped shaking the dice. "You sure 'bout dis, Race?"

"Sure I'm sure! Just roll da dice already!"

With a tentative groan, Mush closed his eyes and let the dice fall. For a moment, it was like the only sound in the world was that of the two cubic devices of chance bouncing along the ground, knocking against each other and the alley wall before finally coming to an uneasy settle. When he could no longer hear the rattle of the dice, he slowly cracked one eye to look...

"Snake-eyes!" Race yelled in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air.

Mush's face fell. He'd just beat the gambling king of Manhattan out of his last nickel. "Race, dat's three in a row, man," he muttered. "Maybe ya oughta lay off."

"You kiddin'? An' cheat me outta da chance ta win my money back? No way! C'mon, just one more go, all in."

"But... But Race, you got nuttin' left ta gamble wit'."

The proposed problem only caused Race to stumble for a moment, as he suddenly eyed the small stack of newspapers sitting next to him. "A'right, how 'bout dis?" he said quickly. "My papes 'gainst your winnings. Fair shake?"

At first, Mush shook his head firmly. But, after much pleading, he finally sighed and nodded. "Okay, Race. But just one more!" He held out his dice. "It's your turn ta roll."

Racetrack held up a hand and motioned to Dutchy, who just happened to be walking by at that moment. "Hold on a second. Hey, Dutch! Ya got dem lucky dice I let ya borrow last week?" Dutchy smiled and tossed him a pair of dice. "Thanks Dutchy! A'righty, Mush, make yer call."

"M'kay, uh... Doubles, bum out."

Race paused. "You sure dere, Mushy? Ya do know da odds'a rollin' doubles, right?"

"'Course I do. It's called gamblin', ain't it?"

With a shrug, Race shook the dice in his hand a few times, blew on them for luck, and tossed them against the wall, fingers crossed. Mush held his breath.

"Pair'a three's! Finally!"

Mush gave a small sigh, though whether relief or disappointment he couldn't tell. He hadn't really wanted to win, but still... He was sure to give a small smile as he walked back out into the street to finish selling his papers. As soon as he was gone, Race turned to Dutchy.

"You'd think da poor kid'd learn by now."

Dutchy laughed. "Hey, how'd ya know ta load 'em doubles?"

"You kiddin'? Mush don't know much 'bout gamblin', but he knows callin' bums on doubles makes it easier for me. Ya just gotta know how ta play it up."

"An' da t'ree snakes in a row?"

It was Race's turn to laugh. "Birthday present from Blink. His own set'a 'lucky dice'. For some reason, he ain't caught on yet."

Dutchy gave him an odd look as he took his share of the winnings. "Is everyone in on your little game?"

"Nah," Race shook his head, grinning. "Just da ones I's afraid ta hustle any more."

They laughed together for a minute, sharing the joke and divvying out the change. "So," Dutchy said at length, "papes 'gainst winnings. Why?"

"Seriously? Even you don't get it?" Dutchy shook his head. "Oh, it's simple, really. See, Mush tends ta forget he puts his match bets in da pile. One'a dese days, he'll learn ta keep his winnings separate."