My friend Tim is an ace pool player. Whenever we go hang out at a bar, most people head straight to get a drinkâ€"but not Tim. He goes straight to the table, grabs a cue and sets up shop in a smoky corner. There have been many nights that I have seen him break, and then casually pocket ball after ball without the other player even having a turn. One night we headed out to our usual hangout: The Drunken German. When we got there, the scenario was the same as always. Tim went over to a table and started practicing. I was watching his skills and nodding with approval when all of a sudden I noticed someone strange watching him. It was a tall Asian man with slicked back hair. He was surrounded by several other large gentlemen who looked very much like bodyguards. The mysterious man was watching Tim’s performance with interest. Instantly, I knew trouble was a-brewing. The man approached Tim. â€Hello sir,†he said. â€I am Tanaka.†Tim sized him up. â€What can I do for you?†â€I am impressed by your skill and wish to play you.†Tanaka whipped out a cue from under his jacket and brandished it like a sword. â€And I won’t take no for an answer.†Tim kept his cool. â€Bring it on.†Tanaka and Tim played round after round. The first time they played, they bet $1. Tim won. They played again and doubled the bet. This time Tanaka won. Again the bet was doubled and this time Tim won. I didn’t like the direction this was going. I called out to Tim, but the bodyguards grunted a warning at me. Quickly, I did the mental math. In under twenty-something games the stakes would be raised to over $1 million! And if Tim lost and couldn’t pay, the bodyguards would make short work of us with their samurai swords. After one losing round, Tim tried to call it quits, but this only enraged Tanaka. He ripped off his suit and displayed his torso. He was completely tattooed! We had tangled with none other than the dreaded Yakuza! Tim fainted. Tanaka turned to me. â€You must finish this,†he said. â€And the winner gets that vehicle outside.†I shrieked in horror. The vehicle he was referring to was my beloved cherry red Mustang! I had spent countless hours refurbishing it and losing it would destroy me. Tanaka was waiting. There were only two balls left on the table: the cue ball and the 8 ball. Trembling, I called out, â€8-ball, corner pocket.†I hit the ball and it traveled across the table picking up speed. It cleanly hit the 8 which then traveled toward the pocket. It moved to the edge just barely about to go in. It hovered toward, then away, toward then away. Tanaka and his goons moved closer, watching and holding their breaths. While they were busy doing this, I dragged the senseless Tim out of the bar and into the car. We drove away safely into the night â€.
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