It was ugly…and almost awkward.

It was bad after the first ten or twenty in a row – even worse after thirty or forty. Things were bleak for my opponent, who appeared entirely unable to regroup, nor gather any reasonable, meagre form of capable or effective defense.

History will recall it in song and poetry, like other epic bloodbaths.

Even though it was just an evening of Crazy Eights out in the gazebo, it will be remembered forever as “Mrs. That Dan Guy’s Waterloo”, or “The Night Of Relentless Losing”.

Thankfully I am humble, and have chosen not to rub this in her face…

Chow for now!!