Magic 8-ball pool (Patreon)

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...“And… that one’s going to be game!” A sharp clack echoes around your secluded corner of the bar right as she says that. You track the cue ball across the felt, watching it connect solidly with the 8-ball, sinking it into the corner pocket.

“You’re way too good at this, Mandy.” 

“Told you~” she chuckles. “Want another round?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, chalking up her pool cue before you can even get a word out. 

“Sure,” you answer, resigning yourself to rack the balls. Truth be told, you’re not having a lot of fun at the moment. To say the games have been one-sided would undermine the ass-kicking she’s putting you through, but the wide, toothy grin she flashes you between scores alone makes the experience worth it. It’s such a blessing that every other one of your friends bailed on pool night, and an even bigger one that she showed up nearly at the same time as you did—right as everyone started dropping off in the group chat, leaving both of you between playing the night or going home having wasted precious gas for nothing.

“Earth to Robert, are you going to start us off, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Your hands are too shaky to aim the cue properly, even with your weight pressing your arm against the table. ‘Don’t fuck this up, Robert. It’s just you and her; this is your one chance to tell her how you feel.’ You strike the cue ball, driving it into the triangle of balls at the other end of the table, seeing them disperse around. Not a single lucky sink, though. You clear your throat of the lump forming there. “Hey, Mandy.”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I… I was wondering if you’d like to go out someti—”

“Excuse me.” A hand clamps onto your shoulder, shoving you aside with a casual indifference you don’t quite expect. He’s about your height, unremarkable for the most part, though you notice a hungry glint in his eyes, ones that are following Mandy as she moves beside you. “Name’s John. I saw you playing from back there, and I just need to play a set against you.”

“Not interested, buddy,” she answers, her glare driving daggers into the stranger. 

“Come on.”

“Scram.”

His lips rise to an unsettling grin, almost like he’s enjoying her hostility. “How about we play for something then?” he says, followed by the sound of something solid hitting the felt. A ball rests between his fingers, an 8-ball, though its center more so resembles that of a Magic 8-Ball toy than a proper pool ball with glitter flowing in a pitch-black, viscous medium and various shiny constellations scattered over its surface. 

Mandy simply raises her eyebrow and crosses her arms, seemingly as unimpressed at the display as you’re anxious. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“A little thing to up the stakes, so to say.”

“Look, man. I don’t care what type of stupid ball you’re playing with. Get out before we call securi—”

A clack interrupts her as the strange 8-ball meets the striped red, pocketing it immediately...

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I had to rid myself of some cow and pool GIFs that were catching cobwebs in my "to be used" folder, so I got to cooking what I hope is a gem with them. Thank you so much for your patience, the sole fact that somebody reads these makes me feel less like I'm just vomiting words into google docs which, admitedly, I am. Hope you enjoyed this and see you on the next one, this time sooner as I race to beat the end of the month for the first time in my many, many promised times! : )

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