Twas The Night Before New Years

[Frank Kneeland]

About this time of year I like to blow the dust of my old Holiday themed poem and post it. Feel free to contribute stanzas, it's been growing every year. All the nicknames refer to real pros and any similarity to persons living or dead is purely intentional.Happy Holidays ~FKThe
Night Before New Year





’Twas
the night before New Years, and all through the house,

The
Jackpots were jumping, like a small frightened mouse.

The
locals had got some, the tourists had more,

While
pros silently waited, alone by the door.

A
progressive was rising, almost a play,

Decisions
were made, should I go? Should I stay?



Jean
Scott was there, feeding her palate,

Free
food, of course, that’s the only way she’ll have it.

The
midnight marauder was there with a scowl,

As
were Snapper and Taper, alert on the prowl.

Not
So Smart Art said, “When’s it a play?

Snapper
snapped back, “If you can’t do the math...please just go away!”




Well
the Pumpers were pumping, the Thumpers were thumping,

The
Winners were jumping, and the Losers were slumping.

The
Slot Hosts were comping, the free drinks were flowing,

The
free food was coming, all faces were glowing.



White
Shirt Will was waiting for none,

With
superior bankroll, he’d started the fun!

Downtime
was there, heeding his own inner band,

Silently
scheming, how to get action, without playing a hand?


Then
from out of the shadows along came The Bane,

But
he decided to pass on the play, all the same.

The
pros all wondered, “Well, where does he go?”

Is
there something else better, about which we don’t know?

The
Bane said, “I’ll tell you, just don’t think me daft,

I’ve
got to go home, to play some Starcraft.”



The
Bucket Brothers, as always, were quick to the draw,

Securing
four seats ’cause they couldn’t get all.

Their
two-machine style had caused some alarm,

“How
the hell do they do that?” was heard from afar.

Playing
so fast, some people will stare,

But
when the jackpot gets up...you just couldn’t care.



Soon
the bank was locked up, only one seat was live,

Played
by a tourist, who didn’t rate to survive.
Had
Tuna seen fit to deem to been there,

He'd
have bellowed and blustered and shouted, “unfair”

If
no one now seated will give up their seat,

then
to theses peasants and rabble, I say, “no one gets meat”

For
my delicate ego and sanity's sake,

Through
them all off the bank, and “let them eat cake”.


At
first all was friendly, with talking quite proud,

Strategy
questions were frequent and answered out loud.

Do
you hold a seven with Jack ten suited? No one could answer,

Too
bad we weren’t sitting by good old Bob Dancer.

He’d
passed by the bank, with nary a word,

His
bankroll so large, he thought dollars absurd.



Then
it ran, and it ran, all through the night,

Bankrolls
were stretched, as on went the fight.

Sorry
were all of those that had stayed.

Who
would hit it? Some side-bets were made.

Then
a change girl said, “Someone will hit this, I just don’t know
who!”

And
we laughed, and we laughed, till our faces turned blue.



It
went, and it went, still on through the night,

Until
finally around the-dawns-early-light,

Lucky
Pierre stood up and turned green,

His
stare boded ill for all that had seen

“Someone
has got it,” He said with a frown,


“And I don’t think they’re local, they’re from far out of
town.”



“Ah...
Snapped of by the tourist after all that hard work,”

We
said with a laugh and a downtrodden smirk.

“But
that’s how it goes, when progressives you play,

Not
to worry... tomorrow’s a new day.

[shadowman]

Reminds me a little of the midnight hour I spent at Tuscany when they had their ill-conceived double jackpot promotion.
 
 

[New2vp]

Frank, No doubt the main portion of this was composed during a time that a progressive jackpot was just a little too low to be profitable?I really like the poem.  It may have appeal to a rather narrow market of readers, but I think you have found a rather fertile vein of that market in the scribes and lurkers at this site.Thanks for sharing!

[Frank Kneeland]

It was written about 5 years ago while I was moving apartments. I was muttering it to myself while loading boxes on the truck. The movers thought I was a bit crazy. When we got to the new place I walked in and immediately wrote it down on paper toweling so I wouldn't forget it. Then I unpacked. These things just come to me randomly. Most of the comedy show closes I did on Gambling with an Edge I wrote in my sleep. I had to keep a pad by my bed. Creativity is a fickle mistress.