The luckiest hand you'll ever be dealt is to have someone supporting you when your bankroll consists solely of impossible dreams.

He kept laughing. He took a small step forward. Then another. Another. Finally, his head was pressed against the barrel of the stranger's gun. "MUUURRRDDEEERRR MMEEE," Joey said.

Joey wasn't the one to break first.

The man took a step back. Then he put down the gun and proceeded to stagger backward. "You're fucking crazy kid!" he screamed as he nearly stumbled until eventually disappearing back around the corner he came from.

Joey waited several seconds then released the most massive exhale of his life. He took several more deep breaths before walking off in the opposite direction.

'Now that was a bluff.'

Joey felt that the stranger wasn't as calm as he was portraying. The stranger's words were smooth and his mannerisms threatening, but he couldn't hide everything. His movements were slightly unnatural with a jerkiness to them. His eyes appeared particularly stiff, betraying their discomfort as if he was unused to holding a gun. Joey could sense the man was forcing himself to go so far.

That's not to say the stranger was incapable of firing. Had things gone another way, it's very possible he might have. After all, a man under pressure may be capable of anything. The thing is, just because a man can shoot, that doesn't mean he wants to shoot. If you can lead him to not want to shoot, then the gun would be glorified scrap metal. Joey could tell the man wasn't a cold, hardened killer accustomed to such situations. That was enough.

For the stranger, the gun was simply a tool for intimidation. The requirements for intimidation are two: there is something the target cares about, and the intimidator is capable of damaging it. In this case, Joey's life vs. the man's gun.

So the man's intention was to 'reason' with him through this method, but the premise was flawed. How do you threaten the life of an insane person seeking death?

Then Joey used the word murder, not kill, not shoot, murder. That's because murder is the term used by the justice system. He was subliminally reminding the man of the harsh legal repercussions of pulling the trigger. Lastly, Joey was clearly young so the man likely didn't expect him to be carrying much money.

The result was as expected. Joey called the man's bluff. Then Joey bluffed the man back, and the man folded.

'It was really just like he said,' Joey reminisced.

'Joey boy, you remember one thing. If you point a gun at a man, you better be ready to shoot. I ain't talking any gun range safety bullshit either. What I'm sayin' is if you point it at the wrong guy, and you don't shoot, then they might just shoot you in the back first chance they get. You be sure to remember that...anybody worth their weight knows that much. '

'On the other hand, if a man points a gun at you and you believe he doesn't want to shoot...now that's a hell of a contradiction right there. You're likely to be dealing with some half-assed amateur. So, what you do is this. You look 'im in the eyes...I mean a real good look, and you size 'im up. You see anything that looks like fear? Discomfort? Well, haha, let's just say you ain't got nothing to worry about.'

'If a man don't wanna shoot and he's uncomfortable holding that gun, then he's no longer the one in control. In his head, that gun ain't his backer no more, it's closer to a...time bomb haha. Yea, he'll want to get rid of that as fast as he can, right? After all, in our line of business, most of these pieces ain't exactly from Walmart haha. All you gotta know is he's gonna be lookin' for a wait out. All you gotta do is give him that way out...one way or another.'

'Looks like he helped me again with his...fatherly advice,' Joey thought and sneered.

The remainder of the trip back wasn't nearly as gripping. Joey finally returned home, surprised to smell the fragrant aroma of spaghetti carbonara. He went upstairs and saw his mother laying out a meal for the two of them. He walked over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Mom, it's late, what are you doing up?"

"Oh don't worry dear, I had overtime at work, I just got back."

Joey frowned when he heard that. "They're working you too hard..."

"It's not so bad dear, the people are nice and it keeps me busy," his mother said to ease his worries.

Joey knew it wasn't as nice and carefree as she said. His mother worked two jobs as a waitress around the clock to keep their lights on. He's visited her at work before. Diners like that attract all kinds of people, sometimes the wrong kind.

His heart shook whenever he saw the emerging gray hairs on her previously beautiful long black hair, knowing full well that her hair was graying prematurely from all the stress she accumulated at work, the stress that he could still feel lingering even when she returned home. He felt like each of those ashen hairs was a colossal whip lashing out at his throbbing heart.

He had always wanted to do something for her, get a job, anywhere, he didn't care. Regrettably, she forbade him to work, saying he needed to focus on his studies. So he did his best to fulfill her wishes. That's the underlying reason why he first said no to Angelo about the job and also why he couldn't tell his mother about it now. He decided to save up money and ultimately tell his mother the truth once he had enough that she would no longer have to break her back to support the two of them.

"How was school?" Caroline asked.

"Good, same old boring stuff."

His mother smiled at that. "Boring is good," she said.

"Yea," Joey replied. The two commenced eating their late dinner while conversing for some time. A mother, a son, and a modest home-cooked meal. Despite the struggles, It was always the simplest, most mundane moments like these when Joey and Caroline felt that everything was worth it.