I Quit Playing Pool Altogether Because of the Friggin' Virus: A Pool Poem

 

I quit playing pool altogether

Because of the friggin' virus.

As far as safety precautions go

Dr. Fauci would admire us.

But others are out there shooting pool

And apparently having fun

Which makes me wonder if it could be

That I'm the only one

Who doesn't believe this whole pandemic

Is a made up left-wing hoax.

Or could it be that my pool playing buds

Don't let on when someone croaks?

~ Ace Toscano

The State of Pocket Billiards in Florida in the 21st Century: A Reading by Ace Toscano

So... I'm not the most agreeable guy in the pool room, or the most patient, or the most tolerant. And, I'm definitely not the nicest. Still, I pride myself in being blunt and honest. That, I hope, will be my legacy.



For more pool and billiards literature, visit my pool and billiards literature page.

A Reading: Mickey and the Wild Eight

Well, I won (bought really) a new notebook on eBay, a Toshiba NB 305, and realized that it had a web camera and, upon further exploration, discovered I could use it to make videos... of myself. As is usually the case with such things, it took me a couple days and umpteen failed attempts to actually produce something viewable. Here's my first project, the recitation of my pool poem Mickey and the Wild Eight. Please note, I'm not quite as feeble as I look and sound in this clip.

Ace's Christmas Story and Poem

The Poem: A Mean Man Named Ho
The Story: The Christmas Meucci

Merry Christmas Everyone!

A Pool Poem: Mickey and the Wild Eight

Mickey and the Wild Eight
by Ace Toscano

Don't play with little Mickey,
That pleasant Irish lad -
He's got a charming way of talking,
But his coping skills are bad.

I bumped into him at Chalkie's
Just the other day.
He offered me the wild eight.
I shot back, "Sure, let's play."

When he fell behind three to one,
He swore the table was at fault.
So we moved from two to three
Where I continued my assault.

Determined to expose me
To all his sharking tricks,
He vacationed to the men's room
Then moved the game to table six.

If you're seeking the worst table,
Table six is it.
It's just inside the entrance
And there's no safe place to sit.

Foot traffic rumbles back and forth
Through the ever-swinging door.
And everybody stops to chat,
"Who's winning?" "What's the score?"

Down two sets and dying,
Mick's attitude got meaner.
Then he choked as I hopped up -
T'was a concession misdemeanor.

He called me on it - I owned up
And offered him the game.
But, he kept on losing,
So, of course, my sharking was to blame.

Play ended with me three sets up,
But he only paid me two.
Next time he offers the wild eight,
I'll tell the lad, "Go screw!"


© Ace Toscano 2005