The woods quiver in anticipation of the SCOOP Poker Tournament. The water is still, cold and deep. A shrike impales her prey on the barbed wire fence and the owl blinks cautiously. The fox has been studying; the fox has been drunk with the taste of victory. Our tornado has passed, the black is clearing, and if ever there was a time for a win, it would be now.
Onward,
clyde115
