Know-It-All now has to accept the challenge. This initial confrontation leads to a dozen more games, and I win every hand, one after the other, faster than Know-It-All can figure out what is happening. I also think I am pulling the wool over his eyes, never picking up my vision deficiency as I only pretend I’m looking at my cards as I already know my hand is going to whip his cards.
He loses again and it is obvious to everyone that the blowhard is no longer blowing. He is becoming progressively less noisy and more restive as he continuously peels off 100 dollar bills, wanting to up-the-stakes to recoup his losses.
As the games play out, the riverboat manager is standing a few feet behind me, grinning.