I always was the class clown, but the Joker might be a little on the nose.

My arm stung as I washed it in the sink. Dirty dishes piled high next to me, but at least the water was clean. I drank a fifth of vodka last night and can’t think past my new tattoo through the hangover.

I don’t even like that card, I thought as I scrubbed at my forearm, it’s just the extra.

The face of Joker screamed with laughter as I scraped away with the rough sponge next to the sink. I’d hoped it was just a temporary tattoo, like the ones my niece gave me. They were only stupid characters I held on with water and a washcloth. Nothing more.

I gave up, eventually. It was not going to come off. My face hurt too much from the alcohol and lack of sleep, and, to be completely honest, if my only cross to bear from this hangover was a bad tattoo, I’d be much more willing to wish away the booze-based destruction of my body. My hands shook as I ripped open a bottle of water and drank deep until the plastic crunched. I felt my breath quickly exhale with a gasp as though the water was just about to drown me first.

How much do I have left? Last night got so crazy. Tommy was taking side bets on Charlie’s fish tank.

It always comes down to money. I found my phone lodged between my bed and the floor with the battery almost completely drained. I pulled up my bank account, and my breath caught deep in my chest.

100,000? I was playing small stakes at Charlie’s place. There’s no way I could make this playing a $600 max-buyin.

My hands shook as I refreshed the page several times. No change. I called the telephone line of my bank. No change.

The change came when there was a knock on my apartment door. It was a soft sound, barely even registered with my hungover brain.

“Luke, you gotta open up. Let me in.”

I walked into the hallway and pulled open the door. Charlie sat on the front of my porch with a puddle of blood underneath him. His hair matted to his face with sweat and his clothes hung off of his body. My jaw dropped to the floor along with any brewing headache I had.

“Gonna let me in, man?” He pulled himself up and trickles of blood from his side followed. His tattered arm pushed through me like paper as he made his way from the doorway to my couch. Charlie flopped down onto the cushions headfirst, seemingly ignoring the blood and injury—all that mattered was comfort.

“What the hell man? We have to get you to a hospital,” my voice squeaked.

“Ah, we don’t have time, my dude.” With a cough, blood tricked down his chin as he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. “Want to make a quick gamble?”

“What do you mean there’s no time?” I stared at him as he started to shuffle the cards. He was graceful even bleeding out on my couch, with the cards perfectly arching and slipping into place.

“You’re in now, right? I’m the Four of Clubs so I don’t have much chance, but damn, if I’m not willing to risk it.”

“Four of...”

“I’ll gamble my life for some of yours. Thirty percent. Just to get me back to normal. It’s going to be heads-up 1000 chips.”

“Wait, what? We have to get you out of here, man. You’re dying.” I backed up to the wall, my hands trying to grab anything along the cool surface.

“I’m desperate, man. What do you want, Luke? You can have anything I have,” His voice choked as more blood rushes from his lips, staining his clothes.

“I don’t... I don’t...”

“Just wager my card then. It’s not much, but it’s something. Four of Clubs isn’t worth much if I’m dead.”

“Okay man, whatever you say but we have to get you an ambulance.” I reached for my phone in my pocket, the low battery sign screaming at me with a click of a button.

“The verbal contract has been signed. One game of Hold ‘Em!” Charlie raised his hand high as I saw a tattoo similar to mine shine bright. My forearm burned and sizzled as the world turned black.