Mountains of my life: Forever Soldier

The Great Pretender

This is an interview with someone who calls himself the great pretender.

"Com'n, Med," he explains, his sometimes slipping, but words still clear, "everybody calls me I'm dumb, but I'm just pretending. I'm the great pretender." His voice reverberated in the night. We had consumed about two bottles each of large-sized beer.

"What do you mean the great pretender?"

"Oh, I'm just pretending that I'm dumb but I'm not," he said, giggling. "You know what? When it comes to gambling, I'm the master."

I nodded and smiled at the thought that this guy grew up with cards in his hands.

"I made a living out of it, friend. I pretend that I don't know what I'm doing with my cards, but when someone's not watching, I do all the tricks. And I go home with all of their money."

"What tricks do you do?" I asked this time more curious, forgetting my drink.

"My cards are marked," he says with a dint of secrecy. "But even if they are not marked, I still can recognize my cards, if it's a king or an ace. I can make all the bluffs. I can let them win first. But later when I'm certain that I got their trust, I do my secret magic, and go home with my pockets full."

"Do you always do this?"

"Oh yes, but now I'm cooling down."

"Why?" I asked, with a toast of my beer.

"I don't know. Just have to cool down."

Then we went home when our beers were done.