|
|

SHLOMO, OY OY SEVEN
A few weeks ago, I got a mysterious message from my Israeli friend, Shlomo. It read: "Must gamble. Quick lesson. Come now."
The message came by e-mail, which really surprised me. Personally, I felt that as one of the top operatives of the Mossad, Israel's spy agency, Shlomo should use more traditional methods, like microdots concealed in hollowed-out cufflinks.
I immediately got on a plane to Lisbon, switched identities, and took a train to Madrid. After a second name change, I hired a car and drove to Milan. From there, I took a bus to Trieste, a donkey to Belgrade, an oxcart to Istanbul and a boat to Tel Aviv. Actually, I wanted to take the boat to Jerusalem, but the captain refused, saying that it was too difficult a sail considering that Jerusalem is about 50 miles from the sea.
"Thank goodness you're here," Shlomo said when I finally reached him. "I have to learn how to gamble -- in a hurry."
"I understand," I said. "After all, I've seen all the James Bond movies. Are you going to destroy an enemy agent by beating him at chemin de fer?"
"No," said Shlomo, "the problem is Hannuka."
"Hannuka?" I asked. "Who's that? A Syrian spy? Are you going to lure him into a poker game and win all the money he is planning to use for a devilish operation?"
"No," said Shlomo. "Hannuka is a holiday -- it starts on Friday and I have to learn how to gamble before then."
"A holiday?" I asked in confusion. "What do holidays have to do with being a spy?"
"Nothing," said Shlomo, "but this is a particularly dangerous holiday. Can you teach me how to win about $250,000 at blackjack?"
"That might be difficult for a new player," I told him. "Why do you need to play?"
"It's the only way I can get enough money in time," he said. "You see, Hannuka is a lot like Christmas, except that it lasts eight days, not just one. Maybe you can show me how to figure out which horses will win at the races."
"Nobody has quite gotten handicapping down to a science," I told him, "but you still haven't told me why you need all this money."
"Until this year there was no problem," Shlomo said. "I worked in the Mossad's headquarters. But last January, they made me a field agent. Naturally, I soon found myself in various pleasure spots of the world meeting gorgeous women."
"Naturally," I agreed. "After all, if there were no beautiful women involved, why would anybody bother becoming a spy in the first place?"
"First there was Venice," he said. "I worked with a dark-haired beauty from the Italian Secret Service named Francesca. After destroying an Iraqi plot to blow up an Israeli freighter in the Venitian harbor, we made wonderful love in a hotel along the canal. When we parted, Francesca said, 'This is January, but remember me in December.'
"I didn't understand at first, but she was referring to Hannuka! Francesca wants me to send her a gift on each of the eight days. She loves perfumes, EXPENSIVE perfumes, and eight bottles will cost a lot of money."
"Not $250,000," I said. "So you don't have to win that much."
"True," said Shlomo, "but Claree in Cannes likes diamonds, Lene in Copenhagen likes furs, and Denise in Maine is into cars. I have to send eight of each to all these women! Thank goodness for Olga in Moscow! She'll be very happy just to get eight loaves of bread!"
"And you expect to win all that money gambling in the next few days?" I asked in shock.
"Of course," said Shlomo. "If Bond could do it, why can't I?"
"James Bond had a big advantage," I explained to him. "He was a fictional character, so his author could make any cards turn up that he wanted."
Just then, a man sat down at the table next to us, and said, "It is a fine day when the sun breaks through the clouds."
"As long as the clouds don't rain on the city," Shlomo answered.
With the passwords completed, the man handed Shlomo a message. He read it and then ate it.
"I have to leave," he said. "I am being sent to Saudi Arabia. There is a group of 100 women there who are tired of how the government treats females and are willing to give us Saudi secrets."
"That's great," I said. "That way, you won't be here for Hannuka and you won't have to send out the presents!"
"No," said Shlomo sadly. "I will be back in two days -- but by then I will have to send out 800 more gifts!"
|
Josh Wilde is the nuttiest gambling satirist on the Net - Got2Bet is proud to
bring you his hilarious wit straight from the loony bin, where he is hiding out
from his former wife, Dementia; his UIG (Used Italian Girlfriend); and 27
bookies, each of whom wants to break one of his legs.
Click here to read articles by other columnists
All opinions expressed within this article
belong solely to the author, and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoints or
opinions of Got2Bet.com. This article is to be used solely for informational
purposes - readers who make use of the information contained therein expressly
release Got2Bet from any and all claims resulting or arising from the use of
such information.
|