Big Denny Does Shakes Beer

For months my demented friend Doomsday Don had barraged me with dire warnings about the end of the world on December 21, 2012 when the Mayan calendar would expire after a 5,125 year cycle. It was one cataclysmic prediction after other: an interaction between Earth and the black hole at the center of the galaxy, a collision with a planet called “Nibiru,” the arrival of the next solar maximum, or — most drastic of all — the government banning all forms of poker.

Dee Dee then took the worst beat of his life when the dreaded day arrived and nothing much happened. But not to worry — my cheerful pal assured me it was simply a minor mathematical error and that catastrophe had merely been postponed. The last I heard he was holed up somewhere, frantically doing research and calculations, trying to come up with a revised date.

However, not everyone on the planet was given a reprieve, for on that ominous day, Big Denny suffered a calamity just as devastating. A black hole didn’t show up…but Windy Waggy did.

It had been a year since her prior visit to the Barstow Card Casino when she had continually bossed him around and drove him crazy. She had forced him to dig a lake by the casino so he could rename his dump the “Bayside Inn,” raise the betting limits to a level that none of the local farmers could afford, and do other nutty things that drove him into psychotherapy and nearly out of business. After she finally departed, he had left strict orders to keep her out, but she bribed a security guard and barged into his office unannounced.

“Oh, Dennis,” she trilled in that annoying, high-pitched voice, “how delightful to see you again. I know how dreadfully you must have missed me, but I was so terribly busy advising President Obama on his re-election campaign.”

“Windy! What da f__ I means, what brings ya here dis time?” he stammered.

“Oh, I was on my way to Los Angeles to chair an important economic symposium, and I thought I would surprise you by stopping by.”

“So dat means ya can’t stay long?” he said hopefully.

“Don’t be disappointed, my dear. The symposium isn’t for three weeks, so we can bask in each other’s company until that time. Now then, what’s for dinner?”

The big ape slapped his head in dismay, got up and reluctantly escorted his guest to the casino’s Four Star buffet where Windy proceeded to gobble up everything in sight while complaining about the food as well as the wine she had demanded. “Really, Dennis,” she chided him, “this concoction tastes more like kerosene than the fine beverages to which I am accustomed. I shall be forced to prepare a list of the proper vintage Bordeaux which you must order immediately. Now then, what entertainment is in store for me tonight?”

“Not much, Windy,” Big Denny shrugged. “Just da usual: Aunt Sophie singin’ ‘How Much is dat Doggie in da Window.’”

Windy scowled. “Surely you are jesting, Dennis. This is something I must see to believe.”

Denny took her into the casino where his elderly cocktail waitress stood on stage, croaking out the only song she knew, while his customers held their ears in distress.
“How banal,” Windy sniffed. “Surely you can present your patrons with something more educational and uplifting. Perhaps you could even give them Shakespeare.”

“Shakes Beer? Hey, I can’t afford ta stock up on no fancy brews. Da only beer we serves here is what we makes in da cellar.”

Windy shook her head in dismay. “I fear that your ignorance is so unlimited, Dennis, that if ignorance were a crime, you would spend the rest of your life in prison. But I have patience and am determined to educate you. William Shakespeare was the world’s greatest playwright. So many of his lines have given guidance to the world.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ for one.”

“Some guidance. Half of my profits here comes from loan sharkin’.”

Windy persisted. “Surely, even an uneducated oaf such as you must know about his most famous play, ‘Hamlet.’”

Big Denny’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, I knows all about ‘Hamlet.’ His best line was, ‘Ta pee or not ta pee.’”

Windy was not amused. “Vulgarity does not become you, Dennis,” she said, shaking a finger at him.

“Hey, dat was just a line I read in one of Maxey’s columns. He’s real funny. Ya ever read his stuff?”

“Max Shapiro? That boorish clown? I would never lower myself enough to peruse his infantile so-called humor! Now let’s be serious. It might add a touch of class to this shabby establishment if Hamlet were staged here. You could play the prince of Denmark, and Aunt Sophie could play Hamlet’s romantic interest, Ophelia.”

“Oh feel ya?” Denny laughed. “Who’d wanta feel dat old broad?”

“Dennis!” Windy shouted. “One more vulgarity from you and I shall be compelled to leave.”

Seeing his chance, Big Denny proceeded to spew out every cuss word in his limited vocabulary. The language would have embarrassed even John Bonetti, but Windy just yawned. Suddenly, a devious scheme leapt into that simian brain.

“Ya know, Windy, maybe Sophie could do a good job after all. Lemme get her.”

The three went to Denny’s office, where Windy explained that they were planning to stage a play.

“Oy, a play already? Like ‘Snow White and the Seven Bears’ you mean?”

“A bit more sophisticated,” Windy frowned. “Shakespeare. Let’s try ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ It has so many delightful lines. The most famous is ‘O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’ Can you say that?”

“Of course, dollink. ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore fart thou, Romeo?’”

As Denny had hoped, Windy winced in pain. “No! No! No!” she shouted. “How dare you insult the bard in that manner? Let us try again, this time with another famous line. Now let us hear you deliver, ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’ And please attempt to be more careful this time.”

Once again, Aunt Sophie did not disappoint. “’ Farting is such…’”

That was as far as she got before Windy screamed, threw her arms up and angrily stalked out of the casino.

And that ended Shakespeare’s debut in Barstow. A grateful Big Denny gave Aunt Sophie a big kiss, doubled her salary, installed barbed wire around the casino and put Mike “Bigfoot” Paulle on retainer to kill and eat Lady Shakespeare if she ever showed up again. ♠

Max Shapiro, a lifelong poker player and former newspaper reporter with several writing awards to his credit, has been writing a humor column for Card Player ever since it was launched more than 20 years ago. His early columns were collected in his book, Read ’em and Laugh.