the smuggler’s bible


There’s a crowd gathered around Gaspar in the rearmost booth at the bowling alley. Striped shoes shuffle around beneath a cloud of anxious muttering. The game on the table is three card monte. Sort of. It’s close at least, the differences being apparent only to the dealer (who is Satan—that’s important so don’t forget).

“OK, bright eyes, you know the rules. Find the queen.”

“There’s a trick, though, right?”

“Good guess, kid. There’s a trick,” the dealer (who I’ll remind you is Satan) says, “but if you didn’t spot it by now, I’ve got some bad news for you.”