An Uncommon Indulgence.
It is not my habit to attend the festivities which Ray puts on every weekend. I am no stranger to debauched evenings, but the regularity of their revelry taxes the resources of a man of my vintage. However, it had been a great while since I had donned my Bacchanalian wreath, so when Téodor dropped by my door, as he always does, to invite me along (bless him, I do like that Téodor), I pushed back from my blotter and donned the houndstooth.
I must say, Ray does lavish a lovely and gracious hospitality upon his guests. A well-rounded menu of meats and thoughtful beverage await the attendee, and tonight the flagship items were marvelously flavored pork ribs, matched rather savvily with remarkably sweet old vine zinfandels, and some lovely imported white beer. The man had even gone to the trouble of hiring a sushi chef, who prepared sashimi, rolls, tempura and teriyaki with a smile and that wonderful Japanese legerdemain. I did nip a bit freely from the sake, and before long I found myself laying into the full bar and victuals.
I have a bit of a flip for the old slate, and Ray made short work of talking me into a wager over 8-ball. He has a lovely burgundy-felted one-piece with marvelous Moroccan inlays about the frame, and I don't mind telling you he's a bit free with his technique. A true lover of the behind-the-back shot, he'll try it at geometry's slightest provocation. Unfortunately, this regular application has not improved his accuracy in said configuration. Also, it can be said that Ray has played a great many games in a casual environment, yet does not adhere to any particular school of discipline, which puts him at a marked disadvantage. Not half an hour had passed before I was five hundred the richer and promising a future rematch to a remarkably giddy Smuckles. It seems the old boy is a bit of a sport, and I envision a rather profitable series of afternoons in the coming weeks.