The table is quiet... something is in the air. Eyes dart back and forth behind shades. Chips clink and chatter in the grasp of methodically churning fingers.
In Phil Ivey's Mind: "Fold 'em. Fold 'em NOW! Thisssssss hand is not for YOU!!!!"
Phil's eyes go wide briefly and the only man at table not wearing shades folds his pocket aces. No one has ever accused this master of a lack of good sense.
And so two are left. One is the famous Phil Hellmuth. The other, not so famous in the poker world, wears the crimson garb and wide brimmed hat of the Order.
Helmuth: Re-raise 50 thousand.
He is confident with pocket kings. But a little confused by Ivey folding after showing strength initially.
Mountie: Call.
The flop comes and gives Helmuth two more kings. He goes all in.
The mountie plays with deuce - eight unsuited. He got nothing out of a flop which had a suit of almost every kind and no eights nor deuces.
He calls.
Helmuth: ( after seeing his cards ) Oh you idiot! How did you make it to the final table playing like this? This is not poker. You are drawing dead you... you... idiot!
Behind his glacier glasses the mountie's eyes roll up into his skull.
Mountie: (with a strange, chilling, deep voice) You went all in. With your chips. But there is still something you have not bet. You can add it if you like.
Hellmuth: What the frick are you talking about you wack job?
Mountie: You know what I am talking about.
He let the silence come down. Hellmuth would normally have said a few choice words but the room's temperature had gone down by about thirty degrees and the lights had started to pop out one by one spitting sparks as they went out. Everybody else seemed frozen. Mouths open.
Hellmuth: It's on the table too. What do you bet in return?
Mountie; You know that too.
And the funny thing was he did. But what did he care. The mountie was drawing dead right?
The turn came and no eight , no deuce. Phil didn't quite know why but he relaxed a little. He didn't even realize he was tense until he did. His knuckles were white from clenching air.
The mountie's face was impassive. Only one card left.
Mountie: I will let you take it off the table now.
Hellmuth: Go fuck yourself.
The mountie raised his right hand. He snapped his fingers. Hellmuth's eyes followed his hand but then latched quickly down to the cards. And to his horror, they had all changed. He still had his pocket pair, but the mountie was now one card away, the ace of hearts, from a royal flush. Hellmuth wasn't though. His kings were the wrong suit.
The universe seemed to go into slow motion now as the river card turned slowly in the dealer's hand. Hellmuth's unbelieving eyes saw an ace of hearts fall onto the table.
Hellmuth: NO!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S SACRED! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Mountie: Luck is a dirty bitch that has been playing for you your whole pathetic life.
Then he and Hellmuth both vanished in a flash of smoke and fire.
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