Never Play Poker with a Genie

Original idea and co-written by Robert Smith (not from The Cure).

The wall mounted jukebox blasted out Wonderwall for the third time through the cheap P.A speakers. His second pint, half finished, was slowly warming on the sticky table. Bob’s eyes flicked anxiously to his dark phone screen. It had been almost an hour since he’d text her and since then… nothing.

Anxiety rumbled around his head like a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. Dating in your mid-thirties was shit. Everyone you knew was either settled down or determined to be single. The people you met online, if you actually met them, were either suspicious or crazy.

It had taken a lot for him to ask her out and here he was, a pint and a half down and one hour into a date that looked like it had already flatlined.

His bladder sent a warning shot to his brain.

“Might as well” Bob thought to himself. It’s not like anything else was happening.

He stood and slowly shuffled towards the toilets. Crude cartoons, phone numbers offering a good time, and an assortment of signatures and indecipherable doodles littered the walls inside the Gents. The familiar scent of stale piss that permeated every pub in Britain since the smoking ban filled his nostrils.

He saw a man in the corner, his back arched as he drew on the wall. Bob could hear the squeak of the marker pen. He wanted to say something but decided against it. He didn’t know this man. He could be crazy or violent. But something was out of place; the man’s salt and pepper hair, his high quality but well-worn leather jacket and slacks. Surely a man his age wouldn’t be vandalising a pub bathroom? Bob shook his head, trying to dispel the question reverberating around his mind.

He unzipped and struggled to get a stream going. The whole situation made him uncomfortable. After he finished, he turned to the sinks. While washing his hands, Bob couldn’t help but look at the man through the mirrors. The man was drawing with serious intent, as if possessed by a demon. His movements seemed erratic, and Bob could only wonder what beastly creation the man was doodling.

The warning bells ringing in his ears were drowned out by Dutch courage.

“…bit immature that, isn’t it?” Bob said.

The squeaking of the marker pen stopped, and the room filled with a heavy silence.

Immediately Bob regretted opening his mouth, this wasn’t the first time his lack of brain-mouth filter had landed him in trouble.

The man placed the lid back onto the pen and carefully slid it into his chest pocket. He stretched his back upwards with an audible spinal crack, until he was standing erect.

Slowly, he turned towards Bob.

His eyes were so bloodshot, there was barely any white left. He had the stare of a man who had lived decades in the thick of war, the horrors of his daily existence impossible to erase from his face.

“You think I want to do this?”

The man took a step away from where he was stood and motioned to the art he had crafted.

Bob noticed two circles and a long rectangular shaft that ended with a mushroom shaped head.

The subtle intricacies of the drawing were worryingly detailed.

Consideration to light, and the falling of shadows, had been taken into account.

Several veins ran up the shaft, giving the drawing a girthy quality.

The pubic bush was so accurate that Bob thought if he touched it, he would be able to feel its furriness.

“Whatever pal.” Bob said and stalked out of the gents as quickly as he could, shaking the water off his hands and then rubbing them on his blue jeans.

Before finding his seat Bob ordered another pint, thought about it, and then got some peanuts. Probably unwise but at this point his date wasn’t likely to show anyway.

As Bob sat down, the scatty man exited the Gents, Bob ducked his gaze to avoid catching the man’s eye, but it was too late – the scatty man made a bee line to Bob’s table and helped himself to the spare seat. The smell of public toilets and body odour exuded from his old clothes.

Bob sat stiffly upright and said “Listen pal. I’m sorry for interrupting your drawing. I’m waiting for someone, and I don’t want any trouble.” Bob then slowly slid his phone away from the scatty man.

The man looked Bob in the eye and spoke. “No, no I’m not looking for trouble” he replied “I’m just lonely. Can I sit?”

In spite of himself – and the smell of the man – Bob agreed; it’s not like he was planning to stay much longer anyway. “Why are you scribbling dicks on walls anyway?” Bob asked, genuinely intrigued.

The scatty man took Bob’s half-finished pint and helped himself. “It all started during a game of heads-up poker…”

“I think you’re cheating, Keith.”

Keith’s entire body clenched. He felt the tingly pricks of anxiety dance up the back of his neck, but he tried to maintain his composure.

“I think you’re a sore loser.”

The man across from Keith laughed.

“You’re probably right. I rarely lose. In fact, among my… friends, I’m known for always winning and for always getting things my way.”

They continued with the game for a while. Keith didn’t even know why the man was bothered. The stakes weren’t that high. Though, admittedly, Keith had enough money that losing even high stakes didn’t mean much to him. He could relate to what the man had said, he too was used to winning and to getting everything in life he wanted. He’d had a stream of beautiful women, and though he was sure his wife was aware of his extramarital adventures, she never brought it up. He imagined his kids were well behaved, he’d never heard any complaints for their au pair. The live-in nanny hadn’t even quit after he made advances towards her. It was one of the few times he hadn’t got what he wanted. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, her staying on after that still felt like a win. He was rarely home anyway, so awkward encounters were minimal.

“Tell me something, Keith. What do you want from life?”

Keith placed his cards face down on the table.

“…what do you mean?”

The man across the table shrugged, then tapped his knuckles three times on the table.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, you had three wishes. What would they be?”

Keith laughed.

“There’s not a lot I want for in life.”

The man across the table smiled.

“Humour me.”

Keith tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

“I… wish I could be even more rich than I am now.”

The man smiled.

“Anything else?”

“Hmm.”

Keith’s mind was pulled back to the night he got the au pair a little drunk and tried to make a move on her.

“I’d like to sleep with my children’s nanny.”

The man chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay, and your third wish?”

Keith rolled his eyes.

“I have no idea. I’d probably say something stupid like live forever.”

The man across the table nodded.

“Now, let’s say hypothetically, there were conditions to those wishes.”

Keith looked confused.

“What do you mean?”

“For example, you could be richer than you are now… but after fifty years you would become penniless. Would you agree to that?”

Keith thought for a moment.

“I’m sixty-five now, so definitely.”

“Okay. You want to sleep with the nanny? You can, but your wife will take the kids and leave you.”

Keith shrugged.

“I mean, I barely see my wife and kids anyway. So… sure, why not.”

The man chuckled again.

“Finally, you want to live forever. But there should be some way to break that, just in case you change your mind.”

“Why would I change my mind?”

“Just for the purpose of this exercise. Though the thing you must do to break it shouldn’t be an easy task.”

The room went silent, both seemingly lost in thought. Eventually, Keith laughed.

“How about… I can live forever until I draw a penis in every public bathroom in Britain?”

The man across the table laughed, a little louder than the joke deserved. He smiled, but not with his eyes, and he tapped on the table three times once again.

“Then it’s a deal. Shall we have another game, Keith?”

Keith continued his story. Bob was mesmerised.

“At first, I didn’t even realise. The company I owned was always profitable but, less than a week later and for reasons I couldn’t work out at the time, our stocks skyrocketed. I became one of the wealthiest business owners in the U.K.”

Bob stopped him.

“What was your business?”

Keith laughed.

“It was a company that produced screws. Everyone needs screws. Funny really, because after that game of poker I was well and truly screwed.”

“What happened next?”

“I went home one evening and both my wife and kids were out. The au pair was still at home, though with no one else in the house there was no reason for her to be. I was more than double her age, and she was ten years younger than my wife. She stood in the doorway wearing nothing but her underwear. I can close my eyes and still picture her, beckoning with her finger for me to take her.” Keith took a deep, shaky breath and slurped from the pint again.

Bob held up his hand.

“I can understand how you ended up lonely pal,” Bob said without thinking – again. Two pints had made him gobby but, in fairness, Keith pissed him off. Here he was struggling to find a connection with someone and there’s Keith, throwing away the perfect life and family.

Keith nodded.

“Fair enough. Let’s just say, sleeping with her was unreal. An experience like none I’d ever had before, nor would ever have again.”

Keith paused for a moment, his mind drifting back to that night.

“I didn’t even hear the front door open when my wife caught us in the throes of sweaty passion. We were stark naked, and I had her on the kitchen counter. My wife, as I said, must have had her suspicions that I was cheating… but for her to see it… for the kids to see it…”

“She left?”

Keith nodded again.

“Immediately. I was allowed weekends with the kids, but she refused to talk to me unless a lawyer was present.”

Bob’s eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Wait. Two of your three wishes had come true. Does that mean…?”

Keith’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“I watched my children grow older than me. I watched them age to the point that dementia had set in, and they were convinced that I was in fact their child. I watched them die, yet I haven’t aged a day. My grandkids now look as old as I do. I know that they too will die before I do. That is, unless…”

“…unless you draw a dick in every public toilet in Britain?”

Keith nodded a third time and heaved out a heavy sigh. There were no more tears, he’d used them all up.

“There are over forty thousand pubs in the U.K. There are shopping centres, restaurants, city centre public toilets. There are a lot of places to pee in Britain, and technically I’m only allowed access to half of them… It’s been over fifty years since this curse was first placed on me.”

“… what do you mean?”

Then it clicked. Bob answered the question for Keith.

“You’re broke.”

“I have to walk to each and every lav. When the marker runs out, I have to steal another. I don’t eat, yet I’m always hungry. I don’t drink, yet I’m always thirsty.” Keith took another sip of Bob’s pint. “I don’t lose weight and my lips are never dry, but my stomach always feels empty, always cramping. I do sleep, yet…”

Keith sighed with the weight of a mountain.

“…I’m just so tired.”

Bob felt a pang of empathy in his chest.

“Is there… any way I can help?”

Keith shook his head.

“I have to do this myself. But let me give you some advice. I won’t say anything as cliché as be careful what you wish for, but please don’t disregard the things you have in life. The small pleasures might seem worth it, but they are meaningless compared to real happiness and real love. I treated my wife awfully, when she was so good to me. I disregarded my children, just to make more money. I put my own urges and ego first, and my final wish isn’t a blessing… it’s a curse. All I think about are the mistakes I made in life. They haunt me every waking moment.”

Bob looked down at his vibrating phone. He read the text message on the screen.

I’m so SO sorry! Totally lost track of time. I’m in a taxi now x

He unlocked his phone and typed.

It’s ok. I’ll get you a drink in.

Bob wondered if he was a human doormat, then reconsidered Keith’s words. He looked up from the screen. Keith was a void; a husk of a man that had took his success for granted. The loneliness and emptiness Keith felt were seared into his very being. Bob was glad he hadn’t left the pub in frustration earlier. She might have been late but at least she was still coming. At least Bob had the chance to be happy and fulfilled.

“Keith, I…” Bob didn’t really know what to say. “Do you want a pint?” was all he could muster.

“No. What’s the point?” Keith said, “But could you spare me some change for the bus?”

Bob patted around his pockets for his wallet and handed over a fiver. Then Keith stood up to leave. As he was walking away Bob stopped him and asked a final question.

“I’ve got to know. I understand that you have to draw a dick on every wall… but why do they have to be so damn detailed?”

Keith lowered his head and chuckled.

“By my estimations, I’m about halfway through every public bathroom in Britain. If you repeat something enough times, you’re bound to get good at it.”