19111007 20:24:39

19111007 20:24:39

DK-N-0404X3200

The cue met the mark on the left side on the striped nine, but only with enough force to inch it towards the empty pocket in front of it before coming to a rest on the edge. The cue stopped in a direct line from the ten ball with ten inches between them and two inches to the pocket. David Rothchild grimaced and took a long drag on his cigar while stepping backwards, then holding the glowing tobacco high above the standing ashtray at his side; he snapped his hand down rather than tap it against the tray, which caused as much of the gray dust and some embers to fall to the red plush carpet below.
"Shit, maybe I should have waited to put five hundred down." David was always quick to bemoan his misfortune early on in games like this, which is a reason why Carbondale kept these kinds of interactions to a minimum.
"How many times do I gotta tell you to relax at pool, Roth. Two in the corner." Carbondale's admonishment was detached as he completed his walk around the foot rail and lined up to shoot for the blue two that rested near the same side in the kitchen. It wasn't a great shot, and he'd have to bank against the side to go around the eleven that was directly in the way, but he wanted to clean up as much as he could down there rather than work around more of the stripes that were closer to him. He set his cue over his left knuckles and pulled back in one stroke until the white tip rested upon the hand, then snapped the stick forward. The cue banked around the stripe and hit the targeted two, but with enough force to make it bounce around and back out of the pocket rather than sink.
"See, I'm not even on yet. Night's young."
"Yeah, yeah. So first, I gotta ask - did you get anywhere with Jesus Christ, the Savior?" David peered over the corner by the head string and bobbed his head up and down to see where he could strike next. He debated on going for the eleven again to keep his turn alive but was having difficulty to see where he could go from there. Maybe if it had enough recoil he could scrape on the side of the fourteen against the foot. He called for the corner nine and shot; it sank and the cue rolled further back towards him than it did laterally to the middle of the table, which would make getting the fourteen difficult.
"As it turns out, we did. Just last night in fact. He's taking it."
"Oh! Ha ha, really? Really? Just like that? Oh, that's something. That guy, ha ha. Fourteen, same corner."
"You really think so?" Carbondale smiled and shook his head at the shot. Rothchild's shot struck the fourteen which caused both to repel on a path towards the side rail and away from the pocket. Rothchild continued to laugh when he flipped his hand at the table. He wasn't concerned about the game's outcome as much now. Carbondale lined up at the foot corner and called for the five in the kitchen corner in front. The path was clean and the shot went gently across the table. The five sunk and he had a clear path for his two.
"Yeah, it pretty much went just like you said it would, from what I was told. Seems like all we had to do was make like you were gonna jump and that you'd say he'd stay. Seems he's really got something against you."
"He just doesn't want to compete. He can't help seeing all the money go in and out through his hands without wanting to grab it for himself. He'll figure it out someday. Maybe he will there. I, heh, I wish him the best. With all my heart." They both laughed as Carbondale pointed to the center pocket which lined with the cue and the six to call the shot. It sank.