Bourré the Hard Way

Bourré the Hard Way

A Poem by Tim Lion

The game is played with a standard grill of 32 teeth; canines are high. (2-7 mouths) When there are 7 mouths, the players may only take 3 bites (as to not eat the dead). After every player screams, the devil passes out five souls to each player, one at a time. The devil flips his own sixth 6�"the last dealt�"and the suit of scars is considered trump. In the Hell version it calls trump carō or Rex Rgis. As in Life, this meat beats all others; a cretin of carō is "deadlier" in rank than a god of any other fruit.

 

After the squeal, each beastie (starting with the one to the devil's left and continuing clockwise) states their intent to kill. Many variants require an additional deathblow at this juncture as proof. Those who are not fighting in the fray fold, and those souls are collected by the devil.

 

Once every slayer has howled their battle cry, the devil asks those still in one whole piece (in the same order as before) how many dark arts they desire. They can take any number from zero to five; the corpses go in a separate pile, and the devil handles them like slaughtered livestock. If the main stock is depleted before all the slayers have been sliced, the dealer shuffles the folded souls and heals those; if that stock is depleted as well, the corpses are propped up and used; we call this phenomenon meat puppetry.

 

Once everyone, including the devil, has either folded or survived the first waves, the skin-raking phase begins. The first slayer to the devil's left that is still maimed starts by slaying any soul from their land (with few exceptions); rules of razing are in stone, and a lower-numbered commandment overrides any higher-numbered one.

 

No matter how high a beastie may rise, the devil always wins the game. To

play is doom; to slay is an opiate. Eventually, all slayers go berserk, and run from the cliffs like Legion’s piggies, and the devils teeth are the jagged rocks below. Good Luck! And happy slaying.

© 2012 Tim Lion


Author's Note

Tim Lion
ignore me. I'm just the stain of an unsuccessful attempt at greatness.

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OT
haha perfect timing, I had literally just put as my status here that people should read all the great writers on here (including yourself)!

this is absolutely and utterly mental! and I say that as high praise - your imagination is in full swing here - brilliantly twisted - nice to have you writing again here!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I felt like I was reading a manual. A "how to lose your f*****g mind and s**t on the front door of everything that may have in fact been a complete fucktard to you."
Obviously that title seems too long...
I got a demon poker here...or satanic bingo.
Its the instruction guide to revenge and gnashing teeth and slapping fatties where everyone loses because the devil is a tool a*s.

HO HO

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

well it follows my personal rule of writing anything, writing everything...
but I say, is this according to Hoyle?

Great idea. Besides, when giants walked the earth, there were alot of attempted stains.
now shut-up and deal the freakin' cards.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This piece has me thinking of a 4th of July where a friend of a friend got ahold of some dynamite - yeah like that ... and man how this could be expounded upon , in the words of the Schwarz - Marketing !

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
OT
haha perfect timing, I had literally just put as my status here that people should read all the great writers on here (including yourself)!

this is absolutely and utterly mental! and I say that as high praise - your imagination is in full swing here - brilliantly twisted - nice to have you writing again here!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 4, 2012
Last Updated on January 4, 2012

Author

Tim Lion
Tim Lion

Lake Worth, FL



About
Sometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..

Writing
oh sorry, oh sorry,

A Poem by Tim Lion



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